


There's an American in the Tower!

by Literatekatana



Series: There's an American [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, F/M, Hufflepuff Pride, Movie 1: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Slytherin Pride, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-19 03:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 84,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13695597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Literatekatana/pseuds/Literatekatana
Summary: Sequel to "There's an American in the Dungeons!"Sixth year begins, and there's a few changes. Old and new teachers, friends, and enemies. Conflicting interests, and decisions. Lian returns with her own agenda, and it has nothing to do with defeating the Dark Lord. . .or does it?





	1. Return to Hogwarts

Platform 9 ¾ was bustling with people by the time the Kowalski's emerged through the barrier. Deciding to see her off properly this year, her father also had the ulterior motive of convincing her that going to school  _ this _ year was a bad idea. So far he hadn't made much of an impact, despite his purchase of a historical account of all the tragedies that occurred within the castle walls. 

She held Sera’s hand, her other arm wrapped around Jake as they made their way to the train. Her little sister, aged twelve going on twenty, kept twisting around trying to peer through the crowd. “Where are they?”

“Who?” Jake inquired, starting to look around as well. 

“You know, Misters tall, dark and handsome,” she said enthusiastically. She tugged on Lian’s arm. “Remember, I get the one you don't want.” 

Lian resisted the temptation to spank her. “I don't remember any such arrangement!” 

“I might have dreamt about it; but you should’ve known that!” Sera bumped into her. “You just have to look at me, right?” Her eyes widened and she pointed through the gathered witches and wizards, saying much too loudly, “THERE’S ONE!” 

Lian slapped her hand over Sera’s mouth, shoving her along, not even looking at whoever she’d discovered. Sera chuckled despite being frog-marched along the platform. “I knew we should've left you at home,” Lian grumbled. 

“I still think Dad’s idea of trapping her in the attic until she’s thirty is the best choice,” Jake added. Sera shook her head, trying to break free of Lian’s hold on her. 

“Julie, you'd better get on board,” Amaya Kowalski said from where she stood with her husband, David. They were a handsome couple, Amaya with her athletic build, long wavy hair and glittering brown eyes; David with his classic American structure, dark blond hair and piercing blue eyes.

“Unless of course you changed your mind,” said David hopefully, waving ‘ _ Hogwarts: an Education at What Cost? _ ’ under her nose. 

Closing her eyes patiently, Lian embraced her father, then her mother, and then finally her younger siblings. Sera managed to send a thought or three into Lian’s mind. Her own Legilimency was growing just as Lian’s had at her age, so when she hugged Jake she whispered, “Keep an eye on Fi when you guys go back.”

“Got it. You better write me or I'll send Jason after you.”

“Ooh I'm so scared,” she said sarcastically, pulling away at last. She wrestled her suitcase from her father's grip, pecked his cheek and jumped on board before he could tell her another story about a girl getting murdered in the bathroom. 

The summer had felt longer than two and a half months, but if she was being honest with herself, she’d been relieved when she’d finally convinced her father to let her come. It hadn’t been decided all at once, first she’d spent seventy days under Aunt May’s tutelage, catching up on her Alchemic studies. She would need it now more than ever, after what happened in June…

The whistle blew and she jerked back to the present, smiling and waving back at her loved ones as they became encompassed by the steam from the engine. Sera was blowing kisses and winking heavily, before Jake noticed and put her in a headlock.  _ Oh boy. Subtle she is not. _

“MERLIN’S BEARD!”  _ Speaking of subtle.  _ Lian turned to watch the blonde charge at her from the other side of the cart. “I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT! I-” Astoria Greengrass collided with her, wrapping her skinny arms around Lian’s waist. “-hi.”

Lian laughed loudly, patting Astoria on the top of her head. She hadn’t grown much in the way of height, but she’d certainly tanned--probably from spending the summer break somewhere sunny. “Hi.” 

Astoria pulled away, beaming brilliantly up at her. “I’m so glad you came back! Daphne said you weren’t going to, but I still hoped. I can’t wait to play Quidditch again; and this year we’re certainly going to win! Do you know who the captain is? Do you think it’s Draco? It’s probably Draco-”

Lian smiled and waved to her family one last time as the train began to move. She noticed that Jake looked a bit distracted in his waving, his eyes aimed elsewhere than her. Chuckling slightly, she turned to Astoria and suggested they find a place to sit.

“Um, Compartment J is where you’ll ‘find a spot’,” said Astoria, as though that was obvious. “I’m gonna get back to my friends, but I had to talk to you! I’ll see you later!”

In the blink of an eye, she was gone, and Lian was walking slightly unbalanced along the train as it made its semi-annual trip out of London.  _ O, N, M, L, _ she kept track as she moved through the several carts. She recognized a few faces from the DA, but no one that was particularly happy to see her, as Astoria had been.  _ Figures. _ It wasn’t as though she left Hogwarts at the end of last term in a blaze of glory.  _ Try middle of the night, bleeding and dying. _

She winced at the flashback that came to mind, before shoving it down.  _ Think positive. New year. New chances. _

Finally arriving at J, she slid the door open and stuck her head inside. Daphne and Blaise were arguing, and Crabbe and Goyle were sitting as sentinels near the door. As the door came to a halt, they all looked around, giving Lian familiar expressions. 

“What are you waiting for, an invitation? Get in here and shut the door!” Blaise barked.

“What’s the magic word?” said Lian in a sing-song voice. She’d spent the other part of her summer teaching eight year old girls, and some of the habits she’d picked up would likely haunt her speech for a while yet. 

“ _ Accio American!” _ he cried, though without his wand so it wasn’t an actual spell. Lian moved into the compartment, allowing the door to slide shut behind her. 

“Aw, someone missed me.” she teased.

“Basta sedersi,” Blaise said dismissively. 

Lian moved to the window and took a seat, willing herself to not ask the question that was tapping on her mind. Daphne was smiling warmly at her, but remained decidedly more classy than her younger sister. “It’s good to see you,” she began, her wide blue eyes looking all over. “I was so convinced that you were-Lian?” her eyes had latched onto a part of Lian’s body. “What is that?”

Blaise looked around, as the door slid open yet again. Lian raised her right arm and rolled up her jacket sleeve, showing the piece to all. “It’s a prosthetic. I had something akin to a surgery over the summer.”

“But,” Daphne had covered her mouth in shock. “What happened to you?” 

Lian rolled up her sleeve even more. “I lost most of my forearm when Bellatrix Lestrange tried to sever Sirius Black’s head. If she hadn’t used dark magic, they could’ve just grown it back; but she did so they couldn’t. My aunt’s a prodigy when it comes to Alchemy, so she was able to design and build it. The procedure is technically illegal, if it’s done by an underaged Alchemist, which it wasn’t.”

“Do you feel a difference?” asked Daphne.

“So far, the only side effect is that it’s always cold,” she said offhandedly. 

Blaise leaned forward to get a better look. “Is that why you left early at the end of last term?”

Lian nodded. “I had to undergo an adjustment period, but it works just as well as a normal arm.”

“Even if it didn’t, that would hardly slow you down,” said Theo, as he lingered in the doorway, before finally moving inside to sit beside her. “Pretty sure you could have a stump and still be twice as threatening as the average witch.” 

“Gee, thanks,” Lian smile d easily a t him, before shoving her sleeve back down. Talking about her experience was unpleasant, but she was determined not to hide from what had happened to her.  _ That’s what got you into trouble last time, _ she scolded herself. So she had a part-mechanical arm; now at least she had a story to tell, like Mad-Eye Moody. She already had a scar just under her ribcage on the right, and a birthmark on her left shoulder blade shaped like the number eight. She was just riddled with experiences, and that was just on the outside. 

They chatted lightly for the next hour, until Pansy and Draco made an entrance. Pansy squealed in delight to see Lian, before claiming the seat opposite her, beside Daphne. Draco gave her a nod of greeting, before reaching into his bag, withdrawing two thick, leatherbound books and handing them over. Lian accepted them with an approving expression, “Do you want the third?”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” he said casually, though his eyes burned with desire. She smiled and stood to reach into her own bag, while stowing the leatherbound volumes away inside. 

“What did you think about his main thesis in  _ Secrets of Excalibur _ ?” she asked, finally locating the book and handing it over. 

“Flawed, when compared to a few of the more recent theories written in the last few decades.” Draco replied, thumbing through  _ Lupus est Natus, et Veneficus.  _ “Not terribly surprising, considering he was born in the 6th century.”

“Have you perhaps considered that the more recent theorists are the ones who are flawed, as Merlin himself was known to have passed through time whether by sight or presence?” Lian asked, speaking clearly and quickly.

Draco tilted his head, looking at her curiously. “Where’s the proof of that?”

“Page sixty-three, fifth paragraph from the top.” 

The door slid open once again, revealing a scared looking third year. He stuttered for a few seconds before giving up and shoving a piece of paper at Blaise and running back out. “What the-” he grunted, glaring down his nose at the nea t cursive. 

“What is it?” Pansy demanded, grateful for something she could understand--she’d developed a slack-jaw watching Draco and Lian talk. However, that had been a far better sight than the scowl on Theo’s face. “Fan mail?”

“Not quite,” Blaise grunted. “Anyone know who Professor Slughorn is?”

“The name sounds familiar,” said Draco, sitting beside Theo. “But he’s probably the new teacher--someone had to replace Umbridge.” 

Lian groaned loudly at the sound of that woman's name. “Too soon, guys.” 

“Right. Well apparently I'm to have lunch with the new teacher.” Blaise declared, straightening his tie. “Ciao.”

He got to his feet and stalked out of the compartment, nose so high in the air Lian was surprised it didn't drag along the ceiling. Draco rolled his eyes and opened the book he'd newly acquired, while Pansy began to gossip loudly with Daphne. At her side, Theo had a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth. 

Lian nudged him with her shoulder gently. “Why are you so happy?” 

He looked down at her, his expression unchanged. “You're the seer, you tell me.” 

“SHUT UP!” Pansy cried across from them. Lian looked over to find her on her knees in the seat, towering over Daphne, whose face was colored bright pink. “YOU WROTE TO HIM ALL SUMMER?!” Daphne mumbled something in reply, a noise immediately drowned by the next sonic blast coming from Pansy’s cakehole. “I DON'T CARE WHO STARTED IT, I WANT TO KNOW WHO FINISHED IT!”

Draco and Theo looked momentarily confused before Lian filled them in with a single word. “Jason.” She watched in mild amusement as Pansy drained any bit of information out of Daphne that the other girl was willing to surrender. By the time she’d finished, Daphne was all out of sorts, the rest of them had eaten lunch, and Zabini returned from his special time with Professor Slughorn. 

Upon entrance he tripped over his own shoe and fell into Goyle’s lap. The two erupted into snarls and shouts at each other before Goyle finally managed to throw him off.

“That was exciting,” Lian muttered to Theo, who grinned.

“So, Zabini,” said Draco, “what did Slughorn want?”

“Just trying to make up to well-connected people,” said Blaise, while still glowering at Goyle. “Not that he managed to find many.”

Draco frowned, placing a marker on the page he’d been studying before Blaise’s spectacular entrance.  “Who else had he invited?”

“McLaggen from Gryffindor,” said Blaise.

“Oh yeah, his uncle’s big in the Ministry,” said Draco.

“-someone else called Belby, from Ravenclaw-”

“Not him, he’s a prat!” said Pansy.

“-and Longbottom, Potter, and that Weasley girl,” finished Blaise.

Draco straightened up in his seat.  “He invited  _ Longbottom _ ?”

“Well, I assume so, as Longbottom was there,” said Blaise indifferently.

“What’s Longbottom got to interest Slughorn?”

Blaise shrugged.

“Potter, precious Potter, obviously he wanted a look at ‘ _ the Chosen One,’ _ ” sneered Draco, “but that Weasley girl! What’s so special about  _ her? _ ”

“Obviously you’ve never been on the receiving end of one of her hexes,” said Lian patiently, well aware that they were being unnecessarily rude about her friends. “She’s wicked incarnate.”

“That, and-” Pansy pointed to Lian, nodding.  “-a lot of boys like her. Even you think she’s good looking, don’t you, Blaise, and we all know how hard you are to please!”

“I wouldn’t touch a filthy-” Blaise froze mid-sentence as he caught sight of Lian’s expression. She’d taken out her wand, twirling it between her fingers as she glared across the compartment at him. 

_ That’s right. Say it. I dare you. _

Blaise cleared his throat and went to recover. “I wouldn’t touch her on principle-Gryffindor’s are barely worth my attention.”

“Good save,” said Theo dryly.

Blaise raised an eyebrow in his direction.  “He asked me about your father when I first arrived. They used to be old friends, apparently, but when he heard about what happened at the Ministry he didn’t look happy.”

“I wasn’t exactly tickled with the result either,” he retorted, and Lian felt his body tense up beside her. Not entirely sure if she was stepping out of line, (she’d learned how British people didn’t like to be touched the hard way last year) she placed her hand on his arm. He didn’t jinx Blaise into oblivion, so she took that as a good sign.

“I didn’t mean-” Blaise began, but hesitated, not knowing how to proceed. 

“How was your summer, Pansy?” asked Lian, decidedly changing the subject. Both Theo and Blaise visibly defused as Pansy perked up and began to chat away. After nearly an hour of mindless babbling, she finally took a rest. Blaise had fallen asleep and Draco had returned to his reading, but Lian was doing a remarkable impression of paying attention. 

“Well, I already know all about Daphne’s summer,” Pansy declared with a sly grin at her friend, who began to blush again.”What about yours, Lian?”

Lian hesitated, gathering her thoughts. True, she wanted to be more honest this year, but her summer wasn’t entirely hers to unveil.  _ Stick to the basics then. _ “Well, I spent a good amount of the break studying with my aunt.”

“Boring,” interjected Pansy. “Tell us something fun.”

“Okay, I also worked two jobs-” she tried to say, but again Pansy cut her off.

“You worked? Glory, what on earth do you do for fun?”

“-on the weeknights I was an assistant dance teacher, and on the weekends I worked at a cafe called  _ Jules Bistro _ .” Lian kept speaking as though she hadn’t been interrupted. 

“What kind of dance?” asked Daphne, looking at her with new eyes.

“Ballroom,” answered Draco absentmindedly from behind  _ Lupus est Natus, et Veneficus,  _ earning a few bewildered expressions from the rest. He ignored them until he reached the end of his paragraph, before glancing over the top of the book at them all. “Oh, I travelled to New York this summer.”

“You weren’t alone,” Theo added.

“And we might have bumped into her,” said Draco vaguely. Blaise, Daphne and Pansy leaned forward curiously.

“Details.” Daphne demanded.

“Now,” agreed Pansy, while Blaise nodded. 

Lian glanced at Theo, who turned on Draco, w ho loo ked around at all  of them. “I hardly think we need explain ourselves.”

Pansy snorted. “I would beg to differ!” 

Blaise caught Lian’s eye and winked. “Dimmi dolce.” 

She furrowed her eyebrows at him. “Stai flirtando?”

He shrugged. “Forse. Ti hanno guardato ballare?”

“Stop doing that!” said Theo, watching their exchange with an agitated expression. 

“Yeah! Speak English!” Pansy insisted. 

Lian pointed her wand at the three of them, and then Crabbe and Goyle, sending them all into a harmless sleep. She then rounded on Theo and Draco. “Okay look, we can’t tell them what happened this summer.”

“What are they going to do about it?” Draco asked challengingly. “Gossip?” Lian gave him a hard look until it clicked into place. “Oh.”

“We don’t know which way they’ll turn just yet, and until we do; I had a boring summer. You two had very dull, but separate, summers. You’re the apex of the group, how you spent your time is none of their business.” She held each gaze, the silver and the blue until she received acceptance, before turning her wand on the other five. “When they wake, the last thing they’ll remember is me telling them I worked two jobs. Don’t pipe up this time.”

With a simple spell, the five awoke, and resumed as though nothing had happened.

“What kind of dance?” asked Daphne, looking at her with new eyes. 

Lian shrugged. “Ballroom, mostly. But on Mondays I taught a class of eight year olds ballet.”

“Cute,” said Pansy. “No summer romances for you, then?”

“Maybe,” she replied slyly. “But-” she spoke quickly before Pansy could seize the chance. “-that’s for me to know and you to not.”

“Oh I’ll get it out of you, one way or another. For instance, have you heard from Cassius?” Pansy asked, a wicked smile spreading across her face.

“Who?” she said blankly, before rolling her eyes. 

“Well, whatever,” Pansy smirked at her and then Theo. “I’m sure something exciting will happen this year.”

Lian turned her eyes on the darkening horizon out the window.  _ Yeah. . .we’ll see about that. _

Eager to be at the school of her dreams and freed from government manipulation; she was wildly unaware of how different this year at Hogwarts was going to be.

* * *

 

Their arrival and transportation to the castle passed in a blur, as if one moment Lian was sitting on the soft, cushioned seats of the Hogwarts Express, and the next she was slouching on a bench at the Slytherin table. Through the many faces she spotted Harry, Ron and Hermione hunched over the table, talking to one another. She wondered if they were aware how often they did that. She didn’t have long to wonder, though, as moments later the great double doors of the hall opened up and Professor McGonagall led the first years up towards the staff table where the Sorting Hat awaited them atop his stool. Lian was gazing absentmindedly at the hat, wondering if she really was prepared to listen to its song all over again, when Pansy leaned across the table and began jabbing into her side incessantly. 

“Ow, what!” she whispered back, jerking out of the other girl’s reach. Pansy pointed at the line of first years, her green eyes round.

“Who’s that?!” she demanded. 

Lian’s eyes followed the direction of her finger, words already falling from her lips. “How should I know? I’ve not met an eleven year old in-” she stopped talking when she finally found who Pansy was pointing at. He wasn’t hard to miss, standing head, shoulders and torso over the fresh batch of first years. The worst part? He was staring back at her, and when their eyes met, brown to hazel, he winked broadly. 

She uttered a curse under her breath, the rest of her body absolutely numb to Pansy’s prods and deaf to Daphne’s questions. 

Pansy wasn’t the only one to make the connection--nearly every student she’d ever spoken to last year had turned to look at the Slytherin table as if to make sure she was there. 

After the Sorting Hat finished his song, the sorting began without any preamble, no explanation whatsoever. Lian couldn’t look anywhere but the giant first year who didn’t belong at this school and what was Dumbledore thinking--if anything having her at school should have apprised him to the fact that transfer students were a very, very bad idea.

_ Maybe it’s not him. Maybe it’s his evil twin. Maybe- _ “Quince, Adam,” called McGonagall, and the guy stepped up to have the Sorting Hat placed on his head.  _ Dagnabit! _

There was a pause as the worn, old wizards hat twitched. Lian recalled the little voice that penetrated her mind and decided where her time had Hogwarts would be spent.  _ Oh no. What if he’s in this House?  _

The brim of the hat opened up, shouting the House’s name for the whole hall to hear. 

She blinked, staring at the boy as he returned the Hat to McGonagall, before approaching the table.  _...wait, what! _


	2. Not Exactly a Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's going to a lot of POV switches in this story, so just be prepared for that as you read. It won't always be Lian's perspective, as fun as hers can be.

The hat rested on his head, meanwhile he was still trying to get over the fact that it had been singing only five or so minutes previously. When it began speaking to his mind, rather than being surprised, he accepted it; at least it wasn’t singing in his head.

_ Ooh, another North American. . .demanding for a House when they have a perfectly good one back home. . .plenty of knowledge, determination. . .you’ve a noble and strong heart. . .there’s empathy. . .more than enough. . .the place you belong is  _ “HUFFLEPUFF!” the hat roared aloud for the entire hosts to hear. 

Adam stood and handed the hat to the cranky-looking witch, before walking towards the table under the yellow banner. How neat that it was right beside the table where his dear Lian sat, utterly gob-smacked. She was so beautiful.

The last time he’d seen her was at the end of their fifth year at Ilvermorny; she’d received eleven OWLs, second only to his twelve. He’d always known she was going to find her way to Hogwarts, but he hadn’t realized it would be so immediate. He’d arrived at school the following term expecting to see her in the halls and class as usual, but it was not meant to be. As he claimed a seat at his new House table, he gave her a cocky grin through the seated people around them. 

“Quince, is it?” a boy with dirty blond hair spoke to him from across the table--it was over his shoulder that Adam had a bullseye view of Lian. “You American?”

“Canadian, actually,” he answered, shrugging nonchalantly. “Easy mistake.”

“Are you affiliated with that Kowalski girl?” asked another boy with a resting-snide-face. 

“Affiliated wouldn’t be the correct term in this instance,” Adam replied, “though we are aware of each other.” 

“How many American’s should we be expecting next year?” asked the girl sitting between the two boys. She had a plain face and a small chin. 

“Probably none,” said Adam as the last first year became a Gryffindor. 

The feast began moments later, and the golden plates suddenly filled with mountains of delicious food. Adam began to eat with a gusto, he’d nearly slept the entire trip here and was absolutely ravenous. He listened more than talked, and learned that the people sitting across from him were called Ernie, Hannah and Zacharias, respectively. 

The talk and laughter died down as the attention became centered on the headmaster, who rose to his feet.

“The very best of evenings to you!” he said, smiling broadly, his arms opened wide as though to embrace the whole room.

“What happened to his hand?”  gasped Hannah.  She was not the only one who had noticed.  Adam couldn’t take his eyes off the black mitt  that was protruding from the end of the old man’s right sleeve.  Whispers swept the room; Dumbledore, interpreting them correctly, merely smiled and shook his purple-and-gold sleeve over it.

“Nothing to worry about,” he said airily. “Now. . .to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back!  And I believe you’ve all noticed the newest addition to our transfer program, Mr. Adam Quince, who will be joining the sixth year class. I hope you all will do your best to help him feel welcome.  Another year full of magical education awaits you. . .”

“What kind of illness causes your hand to just go all decrepit like that?” Ernie whispered to his friends. “There’s got to be a cure, right?”

“Technically,” Adam said, keeping his eyes on the headmaster as he welcomed the students in his address, “there are injuries you can’t cure; especially if it was dark magic that caused it.”

“But that’s horrible!” Hannah said, her eyes wide. 

“. . .and Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Those wishing to play for their House Quidditch teams should give their names to their Heads of House as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise. We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year, Professor Slughorn”- a round old man stood up, his head bald and shiny as dawn's first light.  “-is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master.”

“Potions?”

“ _ Potions? _ ” The word echoed all over the Hall.  Glancing around, Adam could tell that many people did not believe that they’d heard the headmaster correctly. 

“And there is a new development with our Defense Against the Dark Arts position. We should like to welcome back Professor Lupin, who will be taking over the first through fourth year classes, while Professor Snape will be taking over the edification of the fifth through seventh years.”

Confused cheers and applause followed this announcement, geared toward two teachers--one who was rather shabbily put together and the other who was in desperate need of a shower. Adam could smell the grease in his hair from where he sat, and wrinkled his nose accordingly. 

“I can’t believe they let him come back!” Ernie gasped. “I mean, he’s a brilliant teacher but what about his condition? It’s not like it can be cured overnight.”

“Likely under the circumstances, Dumbledore wanted us to receive the best preparation we could-” Zacharias replied. “Snape’s wanted the job for years, meanwhile Lupin really knows his stuff. Hard call to make, really. Wish we’d gotten Lupin though-Snape’s a right pain in the-”

“But what if he loses control and attacks a student?” Hannah asked.

“Sorry, what are you guys talking about?” asked Adam, frowning at their speech. 

The three of them looked around at him. “He was a teacher in our third year; but he left at the end because it got out that he was a werewolf,” said Zacharias. 

“And that kind of thing matters? I mean-” Adam tilted his head towards the staff table. “-you’re afraid of him?”

“No,” said Zacharias.

“Yes,” said Hannah.

“Maybe,” Ernie said fairly.

“What if I told you I was a werewolf,” Adam said casually. “Would you be afraid of  me?”

Their answers were cut off by Dumbledore bringing the focus back on himself.  “Now, as everybody in this hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength. I cannot empathize strongly how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe. The castle’s magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer, we are protected in new and more powerful ways, but we must still guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that your teachers might impose upon you, however irksome you might find them-in particular, the rule that you are not to be out of bed after hours. I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and other’s safety. . . But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say good night. Pip pip!”

At the odd dismissal, Adam got to his feet and followed the members of his new House toward the double doors. The entrance hall, the student body divided three ways--half headed for the grand staircase, then one part headed towards the lower floors, while his group took a side path adjacent to the hall. Halfway down the hall, a hand snatched his upper arm out of nowhere and dragged him sideways into a nook that he hadn't been able to see before. 

“ Dammit Quince!” It was her; standing not two inches away from him, glaring up into his face with hellfire in her eyes. He'd forgotten how much fun she could be. “What in Merlin’s name do you think you're doing here?!”

He grinned, only managing to infuriate the woman further. “Here in this place with you or ‘here’ at this school? Be specific, darling, the answers may differ.” 

“You know what I mean!” She snapped, determined to be furious with him. 

Feeling bold, he closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her so her face was pressed into his shoulder. He rested his chin atop her head, and breathed slowly, taking the blessed moment in before it was doomed to break. Sure enough, she slowly pulled herself away, her expression serious, a step up from livid. “Would you believe me if I said I missed you?” 

“I wouldn't accept it as a proper answer.” 

“Well it's true, Lian,” he said, suddenly feeling a little less charming. She needed to understand. He had to make her. “People like me get attached, and you decided to leave without warning. Do you know how maddening the past year was for me?” 

She hesitated, considering her words before releasing them. “I didn’t give it much thought, no.”

He took a moment to look at her, even reaching out and examining her new arm, sliding back the sleeve of her robes to view it properly. “I’m sorry this happened to you,” he said softly. “I should have been there.”

“How on earth would that have made a difference?” she scoffed, pulling her metal arm out of his grasp. Their eyes met and for a moment he was lost in her depths, before she looked away. “Whatever. Run off to your common room and make friends. Forget about me.”

“How could I?” Adam croaked.

“Because a year ago today was all it took for me to forget about you.”

Adam wrinkled his nose. “Ouch. It’s a little different for me though.”

Lian rolled her eyes. “You’ve got twenty seven days to try-and you will try.”

Despite her harsh words, Adam saw the slightest glimmer of hope in them. “You remembered?”

“I can’t help it--your mind’s still open for public consumption.” she moved out of the nook, through the fake wall that hid it in the hallway. He followed after her, glancing around to remember this spot for future needs.

“Which way do I go?” he asked as she began to head back towards the entrance hall. She paused, sighed and then turned back, leading him past a large portrait of nothing but a bowl of fruit. A green pear was especially prominent, but Lian didn’t pause near it so neither did Adam. Along the right-hand side of the corridor was a pile of large barrels, and it was there that Lian came to a halt. Looking up at him, (he could get used to that--he’d experienced a growth spurt over the summer and was nearing six foot seven inches,) she said, “Take out your wand.”

He did so, withdrawing his rowan wand, (rougarou hair core, fourteen and a half inches) holding it loosely in his right hand. “Now what?”

She pointed to the barrel in the middle of the second row. “You have to tap this in a specific rhythm,” she explained, before clapping out the rhythm for him.

“Why me and not you?”

“Two reasons; you have to remember this for later and if I tried I would trigger the security spells because I’m not a Hufflepuff.”

“And yet you know how to get into their common room,” he reminded her.

She clasped her hands behind her back and gave him a patronizing stare. “I know everything.” she nodded her head at the barrels. “Off you go then.”

Without waiting to see if he could get inside all right, Lian walked back up the corridor, while he was forced to watch her go. Just before she was out of his sight, he called, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Her next step became ever so slightly more rigid than the last, but she continued to march until finally she was gone. 

Adam turned back to the barrels, smiling to himself.  _ I’ve missed this.  _

* * *

 

He slept like the dead, and would have missed breakfast if Justin Finch-Fletchley hadn’t awoken him. “Mate, anyone ever tell you-”

“I growl in my sleep?” Adam yawned. “Yes, thank you, I’m very much aware.”

“We’re leaving in ten for breakfast, in case you wanted to join us,” he offered, before retreating to his side of the dormitory. Adam uncurled his body, stretching out his arms and legs--he normally slept in a ball when in new environments, despite his height. After he grew accustomed to the dorm he’d revert to normal, but until then-

“Was that your elbow?” Ernie winced as a loud pop sounded from Adam’s bed. 

“No, that was my knee; this is my elbow.” he hid a smile as the other boy shuddered. 

“When you’ve finished snapping your bones in half,” began Zacharias from where he stood fixing his hair. “You might consider getting dressed.”

As he pulled on his robes, Adam noticed two empty beds and wracked his brain trying to remember the name of the missing boys. He was pretty sure it was Rivers. . .and another guy called Malone. . . _ sounds like a cheesy cop show _ .

The Great Hall was filled with people by the time they walked in as a group. Adam spotted Lian at the Slytherin table, chatting with the dark-haired boy sitting beside her. No, not chatting--that was her bantering smile. Around them a tightly-knit group was seated, and she fit right in.  _ How does she do it? _ He wondered, just loudly enough in the hopes that she would look at him. She did not. 

After breakfast he and the rest of the sixth years remained seated while the head of Hufflepuff house, Professor Sprout, approached with their NEWT schedules. She was apparently checking to confirm they’d received the correct OWLs to continue on their career paths. After she’d cleared Hannah, a girl named Susan, Roger, Ernie and Justin, she finally turned to Adam.

“Mr. Quince. . . am I correct in understanding that this is a repeated year for you?” she surveyed his record with a small frown.

“Yes, ma’am. But that was only because I wanted to take new classes here that aren’t offered at Ilvermorny, and they didn’t want to send me in blind to an NEWT.”

“Ah yes, I see. Why would you transfer on your last year of school?”

Adam bit his lip, glancing toward the Slytherin table, and then back up at his new head of House. “A couple of reasons.”

Professor Sprout raised an eyebrow at him before she returned to his class list. “Everything seem’s to be in order. You’d better get going if you don’t want to be late to your first class.” She handed him his schedule, which was remarkably ordinary looking, when compared to the one he’d left at Ilvermorny.  _ What’s so fancy about this school, again? _ He rose to his feet, shouldering his bag and thanked Professor Sprout before he rushed off to class. 

Professor Babbling greeted him as he walked into the small classroom, and he saw only three other students in the class: a boy from Ravenclaw, a girl with thick brown hair from Gryffindor, and the dark-haired boy from Slytherin.  _ Oh this’ll be fun. _

He took a seat beside the latter, listening to Professor Babbling as he explained that they would start with an assessment quiz, to be certain that all of them would be ready for the coursework. “I know you’ve no warning, but the point being is that you’ve absorbed the correct information, rather than useless facts. It’s only fifty questions, so begin when you receive it.” 

He handed out a stack of papers that they divvied up between them. Adam watched the girl fret silently over the sudden and life-altering challenge she was faced with, while the boy sitting on her left merely took out his quill and began with a soft sigh. 

Adam followed suit, taking out an eagle quill and translating the runes and inscribing some of the others. At some point he was required to copy out a message entirely using runes to the best of his ability. 

Forty minutes later, he turned the packet over, set his quill down and rubbed at his eyes. He received hateful glances from the other three, who were still working quietly. Professor Babbling summoned his quiz sheet and began combing over it then and there, sending the girl into a further haze of stress. When he was certain the teacher wasn’t looking, Adam glanced over at her worksheet. She was on the last few questions anyway, and he really wished he had a calming draught to give her. At length she finished, followed almost to the second by the Slytherin. Surprisingly, the Ravenclaw finished last--or he might’ve been more concerned with his doodle on the flip side of the quiz. 

As Professor Babbling assigned them their heavy load of homework (a fifteen-inch essay, two translations and read ten chapters by Wednesday,) by writing it on the chalkboard, Adam decided it was a good time to talk to his new classmates. “What are you names?”

The Ravenclaw went first, as the other two looked hesitant at best, resentful at worst. “I’m Anthony Goldstein.”

“Do you have relatives in New York?” Adam asked curiously.

Anthony shrugged. “Not that I know of, why?”

“Just a thought I had.” Adam looked at the girl expectantly.

“Hermione Granger,” she finally said, and that was all she said.

“And what about you?” he looked around at the Slytherin, who did not answer, or even look at him. “You’re a chatty fellow. Let me guess--you’re an aloof sort of person, keeping to yourself until it’s convenient to act otherwise; or so you’d like everyone to believe.” He remained stoic in expression, which did little to deter Adam. He merely leaned back in his chair and continued speaking. “But I see right through that; honestly you’re probably the sensitive type of person, who feels justified to act however he pleases by means of wealth, position or brainwashing-” The Slytherin covered a sneeze. “-Ah, all three is it? That’s too bad because you seem like a stand-up kind of guy, and yet we both know that’s not true. . .But it could be.” Adam paused while Hermione Granger asked Professor Babbling a question about the essay he was assigning them, and when he determined that it didn’t apply to him, he went back to his train of thought. “I mean, I could be wrong, but that rarely happens, if you don’t believe me just ask Lian-”

Adam stopped talking, but he grinned at the ash wand that was currently pointed at his throat. His hazel eyes stared down into the icy blue that wanted nothing more than to curse his head off. 

“Ah...there you are.” He watched with interest as the guy took a slow, steadying breath, physically willing himself to exert control. 

“Nott!” Hermione hissed, looking scandalized. Reluctantly, Nott stowed his wand, turning away from Adam as though nothing had happened. 

“Aw,” he sighed. “I thought we were getting somewhere. Maybe next time,” he said happily as Professor Babbling dismissed them. 


	3. Favoritism

“I'm gonna kill you.” She grumbled softly as Snape welcomed them all to DADA. Thanks to Harry’s instruction and guidance the previous year, several sixth years returned to this class for the NEWT level, so the class was comprised of students from all four houses. Which meant that Gigantor was in this class, the same boy who shook the walls and light fixtures with every step.  _ Seriously? Did he fit onto the train or was half of him hanging out the caboose?  _ In any case he kept shuffling from side to side to block her view, and she was six seconds from deciding on an Unforgivable curse.

The desks had been cleared away, apparently this first lesson was going to be very practical. Presently they stood, watching Snape as he described non-verbal magic. 

“. . .you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of nonverbal spells. What is the advantage of a nonverbal spell?”

Hermione’s hand shot into the air. Snape took his time looking around at everybody else,  and appeared relieved when another hand rose into the air. “Mr. Quince, then?”

“The person you’re fighting with has no idea what kind of spell you’re about to throw their way.”

“Five points to Hufflepuff.  Yes, those who progress to using magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spell-casting. Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power which some” - his gaze lingered maliciously on Potter - “lack. You will now divide into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other  _ without speaking.  _ The other will attempt to repel the jinx  _ in equal silence.  _ Ms. Kowalski,” he called Lian out, beckoning her to the front. She side-stepped Adam at last and made her way to the front. “You too, Mr. Quince.”  _ Oh no.  _ “I believe you two are well versed in nonverbal magic. I should like for the both of you to share with the rest of the class what a properly executed duel would look like.”  _ Oh no.  _

They faced each other, taking out their wands and appraising one another before beginning. She spotted Theo standing near the front with Daphne and Draco, and he was glaring at Clifford the Big Red Dog. She gathered herself, taking a defensive position, knowing exactly how this was going to go down. Not because she looked into Adam’s mind, but because his fighting style had always been powerful, but predictable. He’d strike swiftly, and she needed to be ready. The moment he raised his wand, she whipped her own up in a twirling motion,  _ Buegoneguig! _ The three or four spells he’d shot at her in quick succession were sucked into the hole she’d conjured, vanishing for a second before they appeared, still shooting but this time back at Adam. Without blinking an eye he flicked his wand the three spells collided with one another, sending a shower of sparks over their audience. 

_ My turn, _ Lian seized the offensive, firing off the first few jinxes that popped into her head. Adam conjured a shield of ice to cover his front, which was a neat trick, except it melted the moment her heat spell came near. The wind strike that rode its steam landed on target, knocking Herman Munster back several paces. A few of the class cheered, but then Adam was back on balance, and he’d shot a magnetized spell at her. Which didn’t make sense, unless--too late! Her right arm became unrestrainedly pulled towards the ceiling, tugging that entire side up until she was on her tiptoes. 

“I’m left-handed, you weirdo!” she snapped at Adam, before firing a body-binding spell at him. 

He ducked, grinning like a child. “Made you look.” With a quick jab of his wand, he hit her with an anti-gravity spell. She shot towards the ceiling like a rocket, dropping her wand to the floor upon impact. 

Snape picked it up, scowling at Adam until he let her back down, which he did once he was in a position to catch her. He set her down grinning while Snape turned back to the class at large. “What are the rest of you waiting for? Get on with it.”

“Where’d you learn the redirect spell?” Adam asked as their classmates paired off and tried to silently jinx each other.

“Professor Wolfe showed me how in fourth year,” she replied briskly. “There was a spell Giovanni showed me over the summer that I wanted to use on you but-”

“Couldn’t go through with it?”

“More like never got around to it; there are so many others I had to try first.” Lian said in a lofty tone. 

“Pathetic, Weasley,” said Snape.  They and several others turned to watch as he descended upon Harry and Ron who were struggling in the corner.  “Here-let me show you-”

He turned his wand on  Harry so fast, it was all Harry could do to react, all thought of nonverbal spells out the window as he cried,  “ _ Protego! _ ”

The shield charm was so strong Snape was knocked off-balance and hit a desk. The whole class watched as Snape righted himself, scowling. “Do you remember me telling you we are practicing  _ nonverbal _ spells, Potter?”

“Yes,” said Potter stiffly.

“Yes,  _ sir, _ ”

“There's no need to call me ‘sir’, Professor.”

Several people gasped,  Lian muttered, “ _ Savage,” _ under her breath, causing Adam to chuckle in appreciation. They then grimaced as Harry was given detention for the weekend.

“Isn’t he the one all over the papers?” Adam asked, his eyes on Harry.

“Yep. But the whole  _ Chosen One _ propaganda is bullcrap, so don’t go all doe eyes on him.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “When have I ever drooled over a celebrity?”

“School field trip in 1994 to the Quidditch match between the US and Japan: you nearly wet yourself over Ralph Heidelberger crash landing into our box after he got hit in the solar plexus with both bludgers.” Lian stated clearly, gazing around the room with a bored expression. He took several minutes to recover from that one.

“I. . .didn’t realize that was worth remembering,” he managed finally.

Lian snorted. “Yeah, well I don’t exactly get to choose whether or not I remember something.”

“Jake said you were getting lessons to help with that, though,” he leaned over to get a better look at her face. “Was that not true?”

“It’s complicated.”

Sensing the tone and casting around for a different subject, Adam said, “I noticed during my chat with Professor Sprout this morning that I wasn’t signed up for an Alchemy class.”

Lian grimaced. “That’s because they only offer it if there’s enough demand; and apparently you and I don’t add up.”

He smirked and wiggled his eyebrows. “I beg to differ.” She shut her eyes, wishing more than anything that he’d disappear when she opened them again. “You’re off your game--this place and these people have made you soft.”

_ Soft! _ She opened her eyes, wand already in her hand as she pointed it at him. “I am anything but soft,”  _ Flipendo!  _ With a whoosh, followed by a crash, the BFG was flung the length of the classroom, landing on Crabbe and Goyle. 

“Kowalski!” Snape called from where he was correcting snide-faced Smith on his technique. 

“Sorry, Professor,” she said hastily, not wanting detention with Harry this quickly.

“Excellent execution; ten points to Slytherin,” he declared, turning back to Smith. Lian received a few dark looks from the members of the other houses; if any of them had cast the jinx, Snape would have taken, not awarded points.

_ Some days it pays to be a Slytherin. _

 

When she spotted the look on Hagrid’s face as she approached his cabin after lunch, she wished for nothing more than an enormous handkerchief to dab at his eyes with--though if she wasn’t surprised she was the only sixth year to progress, why should he be? Instead of studying sphinxes, she spent the majority of the lesson comforting him in his cabin. She made him hot cocoa, fed his oversized boarhound a few biscuits that were either stale or actually rocks but he seemed to enjoy them very much. She was rather enraptured with the hippogriff he kept near the fireplace. He was a gorgeous dappled grey with large amber eyes that pierced her to the core.

After several cups of Uncle Anatoly’s cocoa, (which included liberal amounts of chocolate liqueur,) Hagrid began to whine about how much more he had to teach, and how he was so disappointed that his favorite students had quit on him. In that hour, Lian learned more about Ron, Harry and Hermione than she ever wanted to; about how they’d bested a troll and a three-headed dog in their first year, an entire hoard of acromantulas in their second, fought dementors, handled something called a bang-ended scoot (he began to slur at that point) and dragons in their fourth.

“An’ a’course you was here fer last year,” he groaned. “Where I got sacked by a pink toady woman.”

“Calling Umbridge a toad is an insult to toads,” Lian said. Hagrid took a moment to think about that before he tossed back his shaggy head and hooted with laughter. “Right. I’m going back up the castle now, I’ve got Double Potions next. Hagrid, look, this-” she slammed a new mug down in front of him to get his attention. “-this will snap you back to normal. My Uncle Anatoly never went anywhere without it, and I learned his recipe over the summer. I expect you’ve got gamekeeper duties to take care of this afternoon and we can’t have you melting in here all day.”

The boarhound stood and sniffed at her hand, hoping for another stale biscuit, but had to settle for the head scratch she gave him. 

“Lian?” Hagrid croaked as she opened the door. “. . .Thanks.”

She nodded. “I’ll be here on Wednesday, same time. Be ready with a good lesson, okay?”

 

By the time she’d reached the dungeons, Professor Slughorn had already invited them inside, rather than making them wait in the cold corridor. Very few passed Snape’s requirements for the potion OWL, and even fewer dared come back. She spotted Blaise, Draco and Theo hovering near a desk in the front, meanwhile four Ravenclaws had claimed the desk nearest the ingredients cabinet. 

_ Typical _ , she thought as she went to greet her housemates. By the time the teacher himself turned up, so had the remaining five members of the class. The Gryffindor triplet, Ernie Macmillan and Adam. With the arrangement being four to a desk, Adam became the odd-man-out.  _ Leave him. He’s not your problem. He’s not your problem. He’s not- _ Lian’s body moved without her mind’s permission, picking up her cauldron and shouldering her bag to stand by her problem.

“Soft,” Adam muttered, chuckling when she took a swing at him with her bookbag. 

“Having a conscious doesn’t make me soft,” she quipped, focusing her gaze on Slughorn as he welcomed them all.

“Perhaps not, but at least now I know you care.”

“Shut up.”

“Now then, now then, now then,” said Slughorn, whose massive outline was quivering through the many shimmering vapors. “Scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don’t forget your copies of  _ Advanced Potion-Making. . .” _

“Sir?” said Harry, raising his hand.

“Harry, m’boy?”  _ Favoritism. _

“I haven’t got a book or scales or anything-nor’s Ron-we didn’t realize we’d be able to do the NEWT, you see-”

“Ah yes, Professor McGonagall did mention. . .”

“So his fame is a load of bullcrap and he’s perpetually unprepared for his classes?” Adam murmured under his breath. “Why is this professor treating him like he’s special?”

“Nobody’s perfect.” They watched Slughorn hand Harry and Ron a pair of tattered scales and then instruct the boys to grab a pair of old books from the cupboard for now. Lian opened her own copy and noticed that Adam’s book was covered in scribbles. “Already took notes?”

“It’s my older brother’s copy,” he explained with a shrug.

“Which one?”

“All of them. They’ve all used it, passing it down and now it’s mine. See this part-” He pointed to a small novel inscribed in the margins of chapter six. “-Gunner was obsessed with the Polyjuice Potion when he was my age. He figured out a few shortcuts to making it, how to make it’s effects last longer than an hour, and such.”

“Gunner. . .wasn’t he arrested two years ago?” Lian asked without thinking.

“Yeah well, manipulating that kind of potion without a permit is kind of illegal,” Adam said with a grin.

“Now then,” said Slughorn, returning to the front of the class and inflating his already bulging chest so that the buttons on his waistcoat threatened to burst off.  _ Fifty points if they land in one of the cauldrons.  _ “I’ve prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of thing you ought to be able to make after completing your NEWTs. You ought to have heard of ‘em, even if you haven’t made ‘em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?”

Adam’s hand rose to his head level, still higher than Hermione’s well-practiced hand behind him. Their hands were also joined by Theo at the front. Slughorn nodded at him.

“It’s Veritaserum. An undetectable liquid that forces the drinker to tell the truth,” said Theo, before he glanced back at Lian with a shadow of a grin. 

“Very good, very good!” said Slughorn happily. “Now,” he continued, pointing at the cauldron nearest the Ravenclaw table, “this one here is pretty well known. . . Featured in a few Ministry leaflets too. . . Who can-?”

Hermione’s hand might have been first, but Adam answered without permission. “That’s Polyjuice Potion, sir,” he said. 

“Excellent, excellent! Now, this one here. . .yes?” said Slughorn, looking slightly bemused as Hermione’s hand punched the air again.

“It’s Amortentia!”  Lian could hear the agitation in her voice without having to turn and look. She wasn’t used to not answering all the questions. Lian glanced up at her desk partner,  _ Well get used to it, sweetheart. I had to. _

“It is indeed. It seems almost foolish to ask, but I assume you know what it does?”

“It’s the most powerful love potion in the world!” said Hermione.

“Quite right! You recognized it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?”

“And the steam rising in characteristic spirals,” said Hermione enthusiastically, “and it’s supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and-”  She broke off, apparently too embarrassed to continue.

Adam turned to give the cauldron a whiff, causing Lian to kick him under the desk. “Don’t even think about it.”

He grinned down at her again. “What? I can only smell rain, chocolate and a load of salt from a seabreeze. What do you smell?”

“None of your business.”

“Amortentia doesn’t really create  _ love, _ of course. It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room-oh yes,” he said, nodding gravely at Draco and Theo, both of whom were smirking skeptically. “When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love. . .

“And now,” said Slughorn, “it is time for us to start work.”

“Sir, you haven’t told us what’s in this one,” said Ernie Macmillan, pointing  at the cauldron that had captured Lian’s attention earlier. She recognized it now, having watched several large drops leaping like goldfish above the surface.

She raised her hand, and Slughorn nodded at her before he could begin to brag. “If I may, that’s Felix Felicis, isn’t it, sir?”

Slughorn looked delighted. “It is indeed!  Yes, desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all your endeavors tend to succeed. . . at least until the effects wear off.” 

“Why don’t people drink it all the time, sir?”  said a boy Lian was pretty certain was called Terry Boot.

“Because if taken in excess, it causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence,” said Slughorn. “Too much of a good thing, you know. . . highly toxic in large quantities. But taken sparingly, and very occasionally. . .”

“Have you ever taken it, sir?” asked Michael Corner with great interest.

“Twice in my life. And that, is what I shall be offering as a prize in this lesson.” There was a silence in which every bubble and gurgle of the surrounding potions seemed  by  magnified tenfold. “One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis,” said Slughorn, taking a minuscule glass bottle with a cork in it out of his pocket and showing it to them all. “Enough for twelve hours’ luck. From dawn till dusk, you will be lucky in everything you attempt.”

_ I have to win that.  _

“So” said Slughorn, suddenly brisk, “how are you to win my fabulous prize? Well, by turning to page ten of  _ Advanced Potion-Making.  _ We have a little over an hour left to us, which should be time for you to make a decent attempt at the Draught of Living Death. I know it is more complex than anything you have attempted before, and I do not expect a perfect potion from anybody. The person who does best, however, will win little Felix here. Off you go!” There was a scraping as everyone drew their cauldrons toward them and some loud clunks as people began adding weights to their scales, but nobody spoke. The concentration within the room was almost tangible.  To Lian’s annoyance, she noticed that Adam had given himself a head start. He probably began working the moment he learned the name of the assigned potion. A sly glance told her that his brothers had written plenty of notes over that page as well. 

_ Brilliant. _ She shook her head, suddenly wishing she’d grown up with an older sibling, and turned back to her work. The hour went on in an unbearable tense state, never ceasing until Slughorn called for them to stop stirring. He moved slowly from table to table, nodding at Theo’s attempt, but made no comment. He reacted the same to Hermione’s potion, but stopped dead, staring between Adam and Harry in disbelief. “Dear boy, what is your name?”

“Adam Quince, sir,” he replied.

“Well, I would never have believed but it must be true--we have a tie! I’m not surprised to see Harry’s prowess at Potions, he takes after his mother you know!” Slughorn beamed at Harry, which gave Lian an idea.

“Adam finished first.” she said casually, but also loud enough for everyone to hear her. “If you say Harry’s the winner, well, that’s like a form of nepotism, isn’t it, sir? Seeing how you favored one of his parents so much.” Slughorn looked around at her, his expression furrowed as he wondered whether she was threatening him. Lian kept her facial features blank and merely shrugged at the old wizard. “Just saying.”

“No, I believe you’re quite right--I did notice that Mr. Quince here had finished before I called time; I just wasn’t sure whether he’d given up the assignment-”

“One thing you can be certain of, professor,” Adam chipped in suddenly. “-is that I never give up.”

“Well then, as promised, here is your prize, Mr. Quince. One bottle of Felix Felicis, use it well!” Slughorn handed Adam the glass containment, watching as he pocketed it swiftly. Shortly after they were assigned  a rather light load of homework, Adam turned on Lian, placing his hand on her potions book to prevent her from leaving. 

“What was that about?” he asked in a low voice.

“Just keeping everyone honest,” she replied vaguely. She was well aware that Draco and Theo were hanging near the door, watching them talk. 

“No, you made sure I got it; you could’ve kept quiet and let Slughorn go for Potter because he’s the type to pick favorites and who better than the  _ Chosen One _ \--you want something.” Adam leaned over her, trying to intimidate her.

“Of course I do. The important thing is,” she poked his side to encourage him to remove his hand from her book. “I don’t want anything right now.”

Stowing  _ Advanced Potion Making _ in her bag, she joined her housemates at the door and walked with them to dinner. Both were a little peeved with the result of the lesson, and one of them was unashamed in sharing his views. Three guesses who.

“That was absolute rubbish. Potter’s never been able to make a decent potion in his life!” Draco exclaimed loudly.

“Technically he took remedial potions last year,” Lian reminded him, regretting it almost instantly. Harry had taken no such thing; that had been a cover for his failed Occlumency lessons. 

Draco grunted in acknowledgement. “Still, I would’ve thought you’d fair better, Kowalski, seeing how you spent all that time training under Professor Snape to be a potioneer.”

Adam chose that moment to speak up from behind them.” You don’t want to be a potioneer, Lian, you always said you wanted to be a-”

“I’M STARVING,” Lian declared, marching into the great hall for dinner, dragging Theo and Draco with her. Just before they reached the table she muttered, “Did you get it?”

Draco smirked, patting his robe pocket briefly. “Several flasks full. Honestly, who just leaves advanced and dangerous potions lying around a classroom?”

“Our delightfully new and kind-hearted professor,” Theo replied, sounding almost fond of Slughorn. Almost.


	4. Born

“‘Scuse me,” Adam looked up from his Charms homework, blinking at the kid tapping his shoulder. “Um, is it true that Americans ride giant moose to school?”

The first year seemed genuinely curious, and he had an entire group watching from the other side of the sun-lit common room. Adam nodded seriously, “Yeah, we all get our own moose, and they’ve the worst tempers you've ever seen.”

“You’re lying,” said a quiet voice from somewhere near his elbow. Adam looked around and spotted the fourth year sitting on the floor, writing in his journal. He couldn’t see the kid’s face, but he could see his tan skin and light hair. “My cousin’s have  told me all about Ilvermorny; you all ride these shuttles with undetectable extension charms on them.” A pair of brown eyes looked around at Adam calmly. 

“Who are you related to?” he asked, not caring that he’d been caught in deception.

“The Kowalski’s. Their dad’s my grandmother’s nephew.” He waved. “I’m Rolf.”

“Rolf..?”

“Scamander.”

“Figures,” Adam said with a sigh, returning to his Charms work. His Saturday morning had been uneventful thus far; well, he did wake up to an empty dormitory and couldn’t seem to find anyone from his year at breakfast, but rather than worry about it he seized the opportunity to catch up on his assignments. The first week of classes had kept him surprisingly busy, though it might’ve been his fault for trying to take so many. For wanting to accomplish so much.

He’d finished Charms, Transfiguration, Astronomy and was halfway through his Ancient Runes work before the boys from his year came into the common room. Every single one of them was remarkably windswept: hair styled in interesting ways and every cheek was flushed with color, but it was the brooms that gave them away. 

“How were tryouts?” Adam asked nonchalantly as Zacharias collapsed into the nearest chair. 

“Abysmal,” he snapped, rubbing his eyes. He then tried to fix his hair while sending a resentful look at Adam. “Where were you?”

“I didn’t know tryouts were today, otherwise I might’ve come to watch.” he replied simply.

“Can you play, then?” Ernie asked hopefully. 

“Forget play, can you at least ride a broom? Half the second years couldn’t balance higher than five feet off the ground,” said Cadwallader sadly. “But they were determined to try.”

“I’ve never played it competitively,” Adam began, putting down his Ancient Runes guide. “But my siblings and I used to play during the summer months; whenever we got bored of Quodpot, that is.”

“What position?” demanded Zacharias. “Not that it matters. I’ve got the perfect position for you. . .”

And with that, Adam was signed up for the Quidditch team. The next week had him chasing homework and practices, he was barely aware what anyone was saying to him anymore. In his last potions class, he thought Professor Slughorn was asking him to do a special assignment, it was only later that evening he realized he’d been invited to a kind of private dinner. He didn’t realize it wasn’t exclusive so he almost didn’t go. (“Come m’boy! Let us dine together!”) Luckily he spotted Slughorn inviting Blaise Zabini and a meathead from Gryffindor. Equally repulsed and curious, he decided to see what all the fuss was about. 

It wasn’t that big of a deal, although it was nice to be singled out by such a well-connected teacher, who had a habit of recounting stories of old favorites of his. Adam wasn’t sure why he’d been invited until Slughorn asked him whether he was related to Hawthorn Quince, the famous Curse Breaker in the Americas. When Adam answered in the affirmative, Slughorn’s face was priceless. 

 

Two weeks slipped by without him noticing much. On the morning of the twenty-fourth, Adam was the first to rise in the dormitory, which was lucky, because after he staggered into the bathroom and spotted his reflection, he knew that any of his dorm-mates would rather soil themselves than wake him when he looked this way. His bedhead was legendary, but his hazel eyes, while usually dark, were melted gold this morning. 

His hair, he could fix, but the eyes would stay, and if anyone had doubts before, they were about to be diminished.

He dressed efficiently, barely disturbing anyone else in the room, though he stubbed his toe on Malone’s trunk and bit back an exclamation that would’ve woken the entire house. Treading lightly through the common room, which was empty aside from the limp form of Susan Bones, who lay across her Transfiguration homework, snoring softly. He’d reached the entrance hall before it woke up.

**_Feed me._** The whisper growled from his core, indicating that the wolf was conscious. 

_ Good morning to you too. _

**_Bacon._ **

_Okay, hang on._ Adam poked his head into the great hall and found a few early birds hanging around. **_Not birds. Bacon._** Sighing, he made his way to the Hufflepuff table and began loading up his plate with all kinds of protein. 

**_Her._ ** Halfway through a heart attack just waiting to happen, his senses suddenly went on high alert as a group of Slytherin girls walked through the double doors. The names of the other girls he’d learned at some point but in that moment they didn’t exist. They were merely walls that prevented his eyes from finding who his ears and nose already knew to be there. Finally the gaggle of girls settled behind him and he only had to turn to see her caramel tresses cascading down her back. She smelled like dark chocolate and sea salt, and it was driving him wild. 

Likely sensing his gaze burning holes into the back of her head, she slowly and deliberately turned to look at him. “Quit it.”

“You know I can’t help it,” he said in a low voice. He then did the grandest gesture he could offer at that point-he held out a piece of his bacon. “Want some?”

She hesitated, seriously considering her next move. He always liked that about her, the way she planned ahead and then acted. Course, she could just as easily be reckless and go for it. He liked that side too. In the end, she declined, turning back to her table. Trying to ignore the wolf’s whine from within, he did the same, continuing to inhale large amounts of breakfast meat. 

**_Her._ ** The wolf grunted when Lian rose to leave about a half an hour later. He'd finished by then and pretended to read while the tables filled with students preparing themselves for the oncoming day. Surrounding herself with her group, she was able to leave without much hindrance.  **_Follow._ **  However, Adam could not say the same for himself. 

Many others in his situation would embody the animal instincts, saying they were separate and belonged to a monster that was trying to take over, but Adam knew better. He was the wolf, and the wolf was him; just a tad more fierce when the moon reached its ninety-th percentile on to the full face. It hadn't always been this way, only when he'd hit his growth season a few years ago, and he knew it would calm down eventually. 

As he walked at a respectable distance behind Lian and her friends, he could hear his leader’s voice in his head so clearly she could have been standing beside him.  _ ‘You are not just an animal, nor are you a mere human: you are both. The best parts of each, designed for survival. . .You walk and talk and think for yourself, but you have enhanced senses and instincts that will never fail. . .The shift you experience on the full moon is only a curse if you fail to exercise control.’ _

What about girls? He'd asked around age twelve. 

‘ _ The wolf has no interest; but the boy does. When you reach a particular age, the two sides will combine.’ _

What does that mean?

_ ‘Very few animals mate for life; but wolves happen to be one of them. Over time you will become attracted to someone, but only when your wolf chooses them as well can you feel any kind of attachment to them.’ _

What if the wolf chooses someone I don’t like?

_ ‘The wolf only selects someone compatible with all of you, and as much as I hate to admit it, very few people fit that profile. When you find someone. . .try to hold onto them.’ _

What if they leave?

_ ‘Does the term lone wolf mean anything to you?’ _

By the time McGonagall began her class, Adam had negotiated with Pansy to swap seats with him. Content at her side, both wolf and boy found it easier to focus on the lesson, whatever it was. He hadn’t been lying that first night--the last year at Ilvermorny had been awful--he would’ve had to repeat his sixth year regardless of transferring to Hogwarts or not. And while the tests to determine whether or not he could come had been difficult, he’d had something along the lines of proper motivation to get him through. Anything to see her again, to have the chance. . .

Lian knew what was happening to him, mostly. The important parts, anyway. She'd seen it all before, having figured him out in their first year. He’d teased her constantly since then, finding her funny and fiery, and he could always push her buttons. In a way, he’d selected her, but it wasn't until their fifth year at Ilvermorny that the wolf had chosen her as well. 

“Adam,” she hissed out of the side of her mouth. “Stop staring.” 

“I’m not staring, I’m observing.”

“Observe on your own time, then.” she muttered, unfortunately she was not subtle enough to deceive their professor.

“Ms. Kowalski, Mr. Quince,” McGonagall snapped. Everyone in the class looked around to stare at them. “Is there something you’d like to share with the class?”

“No, Professor,” said Lian quickly.

“Indeed, and yet you felt the need to discuss it while I’m talking, so it must be very important.” she gave the pair of them a rather stern gaze. 

Adam got the sour smell  of agitation mixed in with Lian’s scent.  **_Do something._ ** “It was my fault professor,” he said, meeting McGonagall’s steely expression. “I was distracting her.” Lian made a tsking noise in derision, which he and McGonagall chose to ignore. 

“See that it doesn’t happen again, Mr. Quince,” she turned back to the class at large. “Now, Self-Transfiguration is a dangerous work if not done properly. . .”

Lian’s agitation subsided a few minutes after that, though it was replaced with a hint of anger. Understanding that she wasn’t going to give him anything more for the remainder of the double period, he turned to listen to McGonagall speak of the extra powers one could gain from transfiguring themselves. Nearly ten minutes passed without interruption, but then someone had a question.

“Professor?” Anthony raised his hand. “Was it ever revealed who the Animagus was?”

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Goldstein?” 

“From your examination last year? Roger wouldn’t shut up about it.” Anthony was not the only one who looked curious. “He was convinced it was the librarian.”

“The identity of the animagus was not revealed, nor is it my responsibility to do so now,” replied McGonagall shrewdly. “However I might see fit to invite them to join our class once or twice in the future.” 

Beside him, Lian shifted in her seat, but remained silent. Adam remembered quite clearly the day she’d finally been able to transform--after the meditation, she’d thought her animagus for was going to be a lioness or a panther, but of course her fate was not something so plain and ordinary. Of course she’d be a magical creature, the very symbol of his American House. It all made sense, at least it did in his head. He could only hope that one day she would understand everything.

After class, she headed to the library, and he kept her company, as did Pansy and Daphne who kept shooting him suspicious looks. Maybe it was the eyes. Not everyone can pull off liquid gold. They claimed a table and he watched as Lian pulled out their recently assigned essay and began working on it straightaway. 

Pansy and Daphne began the same, but not as diligently, seeming to take turns glaring at him. Hating the silence, he decided to strike up a whispered conversation. Anyhow, he had news to share.

“I went to Professor Sprout about Alchemy,” he told Lian. “She didn’t think they’d be able to contact an Alchemist willing to start up a class on such short notice.” 

“I told you,” she replied softly.

“But then I asked about how you’re the only sixth year taking Care of Magical Creatures, and you’re still able to take the class even though there’s ‘not enough interest’.” he continued. “But-”

“The difference is that there’s three other years full of students who want to learn about bowtruckles and unicorns. In all seven years,” Lian answered, while scribbling out a mistake on her parchment, “there’s no one other than you or I who has expressed an interest in Alchemic studies.”

“Which, as any other magical institution would tell you,” Adam argued softly. “Ought to be enough. Seeing as it isn’t, I found an alternate-” but he was interrupted again.

“You're just bitter that I'm better at Alchemy than you, and you’re trying to catch up.”

“Speaking of which-” he withdrew a stack of paperwork and dropped it onto the table with a thud. “-your aunt says hi.”

Lian groaned. “You're the devil.” 

Adam grinned wolfishly at her. “And a handsome one, at that.”

“Alright, enough!” Pansy closed her book with a snap. “What is going on between you two?”

It was just as well he was in balance with the wolf, else he might’ve said something stupid.  **_Mine._ **

“Nothing.” Lian said, turning back to her homework. “We’ve just known each other for a few years.”

“You haven’t dated one another?” Daphne asked, watching them carefully.

“No. We went on a group date once but not with each other,” Adam grinned when Lian shot him a warning look. “That was when you had a crush on Anders.”

“Shut up, Quince. It’s not like you were winning any victories with Stacey,” that remark wiped the smirk off Adam’s face. Stacey Borden had been a particularly panic-inducing phase of his life; neither subtle nor patient, she’d practically thrown herself at him in fifth year. He’d barely managed to convince Lian and Anders to tag along so she wouldn’t do anything else. 

“So. . . there’s nothing between you two?” Pansy reiterated, still skeptical. 

“Nope,”  _ Just a whole lot of tension.  _ **_Mine._ ** _ Shut up, no one asked you. _ Adam grinned at Pansy innocently. 

They lapsed into silence once more, when a passing student placed a note on Adam’s bag, before moving on. Opening it, he found a neatly written message, or rather a summons to the DADA teacher’s office. 

**_Stay._ **

_ Shh. _ He gathered his things and left the library without another word.  _ Might as well get this over with.  _ He could see the moon on the rise, though the sky was still bright. He had a suspicion as to what the teacher wanted to talk to him about, but he figured he’d play dumb until the professor had a chance to breach the subject.

Knocking twice before entering, Adam spotted the wizard bent over several rolls of parchment. His office displayed all sorts of tanks filled with dark creatures for his students to study and observe. Once inside and the door shut, the professor turned to look at him, before gesturing to the chair before the desk. “Have a seat, Mr. Quince.”

Adam sat, back straight and chin up as the professor took his own seat. “You asked to see me, sir?”

“Yes I did, and I must thank you for coming so promptly. I daresay we have much to discuss. My name is Remus Lupin, and I recognize that while I am not your Defense teacher, the headmaster has asked that I keep an eye out for you. Have you any idea why that might be?” 

Adam shrugged. His wolf was bored already, and wanted to return to the library. “He might think we have something in common.”  **_Wrong._ **

Lupin nodded. “Yes, I daresay he does. Do you have any reason to believe he is incorrect?”

“With all due respect, sir, I’d rather you get to the point.” 

“I’m only trying to protect your privacy-” he replied gently, but the wolf inside decided he didn’t feel like dancing today.

“You attended this school when you were young,” he assumed, and judging by the non-argumentative expression Lupin gave him, he was not wrong. “And you hid yourself away from the entire student body around this time of the month. You lacked control, and so you locked yourself up in a cage like a wild beast--feel free to correct me, sir.” Lupin did not, so Adam continued. “So now I come along, nearly twenty years later, and you automatically assume the same rules apply.” He cleared his throat and sat forward in his chair. “Am I wrong?”

“Rules. . .” Lupin mused. “I’d prefer the term principles.”

“Spoken like a man scared of his bite,” replied Adam, keeping an even tone as he spoke. “You'll find no such fear in me.”

“You’re very defensive and harsh for someone who is not afraid,” Lupin observed.

“I only want it to be clear that we have nothing in common, despite the lycanthropy.”

“So you admit it, then,” Lupin raised his eyebrows. “Most of our kind that I come across try to hide or deny it.”

“Our kind? You and I are very different, Professor. You were bitten. I was born.” Adam glanced at the moon out the window; it wasn’t full. . .yet. “In the days to come, you’ll understand what I mean whether you like it or not.” 


	5. Flight and the Forest

“You want to have practice tonight?” Astoria asked incredulously. Lian looked up from her work, sizing Draco up as he gathered his wits.  _ Don’t hurt yourself.  _ She and the younger Greengrass had been in the midst of their study hall period, having found solace in the fact that they were both terrible at Charms. Deciding to encourage each other, they'd spent the better part of an hour working when Draco Malfoy finally tracked them down. He stood before their table now, his posture erect and impeccable as though addressing the Minister.

“Well, after all we’ve had tryouts, I think it’s best if we start training right away.” he said at last.

“Better you mean, that we start training before anyone else.” Lian supplied with a knowing grin.

“Exactly.” Draco nodded. “Will you both be there, then?”

“What do you think, Astoria? Should we go?” Lian asked playfully.

After pretending to consider it for at least thirty seconds, the young keeper shrugged. “I should be able to clear up my schedule.” she waited for Draco to walk away before adding. “I mean, at least it’s a Friday night.”

“Wait, what’s the date?” Lian asked quickly.  _ I knew I forgot something! _

“The er, twenty-seventh, why?”

“It’s just...we shouldn’t let practice run late.”  _ Though technically, I’ve never seen a werewolf fly before. _

“Right, well even if they try--I’ve got so much work to do--I don’t even start my OWLs until next year!” Astoria slumped dramatically over her homework, accidentally knocking over her spellbooks. “Oops. I’ll get that.”

* * *

 

Lian opted to skip dinner, knowing she could eat after practice--Fred had shown her where and how to get into the kitchens last year. Instead she grabbed her quidditch gear and headed out to the pitch. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who planned to skip food; she was soon joined by the whole team, sans Crabbe and Goyle. 

Tryouts had been brutal this year. They were seeking two chasers who could not only fly, but also keep up with Lian’s speed and forward style of play. In the end they'd settled on Urquhart, a wall of a fifth year, and Blaise, who'd barely beat Vaisey during the tryout. 

When she and Astoria left the locker room, the boys were standing before a series of equipment that spanned the entire field. Lian spotted the bludgers chasing each other in circles near a set of monkey bars, and had to ask. 

“What the heck is all this?”

Draco spread his arms over the field, and Lian half expected him to quote  _ The Lion King _ . (“Everything the grass touches…”) “Isn't it obvious? It's an obstacle course.”

“What's it for?” Astoria asked apprehensively. She wasn't alone, the whole team looked a bit spooked, as though afraid the rings of fire would start chasing them. 

“To train us to overcome any obstacle,” Draco replied, looking far too pleased with himself. 

Blaise turned to the rest of the group, his arms crossed imperiously over his chest. “Right, well, who let him subscribe to the Elite Quidditch magazines, again?”

Lian rounded on the keeper. “Astoria.”

She held up her hands in surrender. “It was a joke!”

Urquhart swallowed as Draco ordered them to mount their brooms. “We’re doomed.”

“Come on, it's not that bad,” Lian said, trying to convince herself more than anyone else. “Draco’s going to show us how it's done, right?” 

“Don't be such cowards,” Draco sneered. “It's not nearly as bad as it looks.”

“Then why are you stalling?” Blaise asked. 

“Ha paura di un bludger alla testa,” Lian said from the corner of her mouth. Blaise sniggered, while Draco shot the pair of them an ugly look. 

“I liked you better when you hated each other,” he growled. “We’re wasting time! I'll go first but the chasers are next, followed by Astoria and then the beaters, got it?” Without waiting for them to disagree, he took off through the first hoop. The instant he did, the entire field became alive. The twenty or so hoops began to move, flashing fire on and off at unpredictable intervals. Halfway down the stretch, Draco leapt from his broom and climbed from the monkey bars--which upon closer inspection, Lian realized were just floating rods--only using his hands. His broom waited for him at the end, where he re-mounted, and immediately had to duck the bludgers as they fired after him, all the way to the goal posts where the next round of flaming hoops were waiting for him. 

The six of them looked on in shock, before Blaise nudged Lian forward. “You next.” 

She shook herself to gather her wits before gripping the handle of her Sky Shatter tightly, headed straight for the first hoop. 

It was about as bad as sight promised and instinct warned. Mid-bludger-pursuit she became convinced that either Draco had practiced this all summer or had cheated somehow. At length, she'd barely reached the other end of the field when everything froze. Draco blew his whistle and was calling her back the way she'd come. 

“What now?” She panted, stopping short of crashing into Goyle. 

“Zabini fell from the bars,” Urquhart grunted. “So now we have to start again.”

“What?!” Lian whined. “No!”

“Come on, we’re only as good as our weakest player, or something,” Draco said in an effort to inspire or depress them. “Blaise starts this time.”

But this time the hoops began to change in size and shape, right up until Crabbe bounced off of one. 

The next time, they moved side to side, and the bars were ice cold beneath their gloves. Astoria’s hands became numb and she couldn't properly steer afterwards. 

“Come on, it's not that difficult!” Draco kept repeating, insomuch that Lian had a few urges to shove his whistle somewhere unpleasant. This went on for nearly an hour before every single one of them clawed and scraped their way to the end without messing up. Lian blamed it entirely on the adrenaline coursing through their veins, grouped with the innate desire to kill the captain. By the time they’d cleared the field of the disastrous course, and Draco began leading them through Quaffle drills, the sun had sunk low over the forbidden forest. As the sky grew darker, Lian became more and more uneasy, until she flew over to Draco and told him to cut practice short. 

“Excuse me, but I believe it says Captain on  _ my _ uniform,” he said haughtily. “We’ve a few more drills to go-”

“Then let’s finish them tomorrow. Our time would be better spent inside tonight,” she glanced towards the moon. “Don’t you think?”

Draco glanced up at the very large and very bright, full moon and nodded mutely, before giving two short blasts on the whistle. “That’s it for tonight!”

“‘That’s it’?” Blaise repeated sardonically. “‘ _ That’s it _ ’? Whatever happened to ‘good work everyone’, or ‘that was the most excellent practice I’ve ever seen’, or perhaps-”

“Good work everyone that was the most excellent practice I’ve ever seen,” Draco said in a monotone, already descending toward the locker room's. Astoria laughed at the look on Blaise’s face, before the rest of them followed after their captain.

They spent too long in the changing room for Lian’s liking, and she waited for all six of them to head off across the moonlit grounds before even bothering to change herself. By the time she exited the pitch and moved across the grass, she could hear a low howl in the distance. It was followed almost immediately by another, though at a higher pitch. 

_ I have a mountain of homework, _ she reminded herself. Term had only been two weeks and yet she was going to be buried beneath her ineptitude at Charms.  _ I need a good night’s rest. I have a kitchen to raid, house-elves to delight and a stomach to feed. This isn’t like last year. I should go inside. I should go inside right now.  _

As another howl ripped through the young evening, the girl shifted into her animagus form seamlessly.  _ A minute never hurt anybody.  _ Since the battle last June, she’d taken special care to not let the beast take control over her again. Not to mention, she only had five legs instead of six now, not that it mattered much when it came to running. She was still the fastest creature on the grounds by a wide margin.

She raced into the forbidden forest, the full moon illuminating most of  her way, her cat eyes able to see where it couldn’t. Scenting the air, she attempted to gage a sort of direction to follow, but the forest was full of all kinds of fawna, not just the one she had in mind. Decidedly throwing caution to the wind, the wampus tossed back its head and released a roar that scared the crows out of the surrounding trees.

One heartbeat.

Three. 

The silence permeated, and still nothing called in return. And then she detected the pawsteps along the earthen floor, belonging to not one, but a few. She saw the dog first: big, shaggy and bearlike in size. It’s black fur made it seem like a breathing shadow that crept through the trees toward her. She was so taken aback by its appearance, she almost didn’t notice the grey wolf that followed along in its wake. It was skinny by werewolf standards, but judging by its longer limbs and claws, there was no mistaking it for a rabid greyhound. She’d only made that mistake twice.

Their scents were both familiar but unfamiliar to her, but neither seemed hostile as they drew near. Directing her thoughts toward the dog, she tried to figure out how intelligent it was. Rather than the usual thoughts of a dog she found rich memories of a wizard. She saw Harry, or someone who looked very like him, astride three other happy, young men, and a young woman with brilliant green eyes. She withdrew from the dog quickly, understanding then and there who the animagus must be, further confirming her suspicion about the werewolf’s identity. However at that moment, Black decided he would attempt to investigate her stump, which Lian did not appreciate and made a point of telling him so. 

She pulled away from him sharply, curling her lips back in a snarl. At that precise moment, a deep growl sounded behind her, the kind that made her bone marrow quiver. She didn’t need to turn, Lian knew exactly who that kind of sound belonged to--it was the other two who displayed concern, to put it lightly. Black showed his teeth and growled back, his hackles rising as the skinny wolf moved back a pace, flexing its claws in case he needed to use them. 

Lian watched as the black werewolf moved forward into the clearing, keeping himself close to her but facing the other two. She rolled her eyes and leapt up to the nearest branch, arranging her body comfortably enough on the wood to watch from on high. Able to view both of the lycans now, there was little to no comparison between them. 

As a werewolf, Lupin was thin and reedy, his hair was grey and from ear tip to his tail end his movements were muted, almost ashamed. If he could talk in this form, she’d expect him to say ‘pardon me, excuse me’ to every root, every blade of grass he stepped on. 

Adam, on the other paw, was a very different story. Lian had never met the other members of his pack, but if they were anything like him, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. His wolf was massive, covered in thick furs and muscle. His tail, chest and neck fur was especially bushy--maybe it was a regional thing, it did get cold in Alaska or wherever he lived. Not to mention, if his regular height was intimidating, his transformed height from ear tip to clawed foot was astounding. It wasn’t as though Lian could approach him with measuring tape, but if she’d had to guess she would say about eight feet...ish. 

The black werewolf raised its eyes to look at her, emitting a slight whine. It was then that she knew he’d taken his usual dose of Wolfsbane, because while Adam regained control in ways she never thought possible, sometimes his wolf was a bit louder than his wizard. The wolf both questioned and hated that her animagus form was essentially a big cat, which only amused her greatly. Once she was certain the three of them would not engage in a brawl, she descended once again to the ground floor. Adam approached her apprehensively, his luminous eyes darting to the stump where her sixth leg used to be. 

She knew what he wanted to do then, and didn’t care much for it; so as an alternative, she moved towards the dog and adopted a playful position with her three legs stretched out before her and her tail high in the air. The dog hesitated for a fraction of a second before he copied her, wiggling his rump excitedly. Snapping her teeth at him, she cuffed his ears before prancing a few paces away.

_ Race ya,  _ she thought openly, well aware that the wampus had the capacity to amplify its thoughts to all three minds. The dog gave a booming bark before dashing at, around, then past her. Giving the two werewolves one last glance, she sprinted on after him. She tackled Black and they tussled for several seconds before jumping up, bits of dirt, twigs and leaves sticking to their pelts before they raced off again, weaving between the trunks and undergrowth.

_ Homework, _ cried her losing side desperately. 

_ Who cares? _ The rest of her argued.  _ It’s a weekend anyway. _

Another moment and she could hear the thundering footfalls of the wolves behind them. Seized by the thrill of the chase, Lian felt renewed strength rush into her limbs, allowing her to dash through the forest with greater agility. She surpassed Black in the twitch of a whisker, jumped across a hollow and ran on and on, never wanting to stop. 

She could hear Black barking behind her, but didn’t pause or look back. She would have run straight off the cliff face if the wolf hadn’t stopped her. His fangs sank into the scruff of her neck, hauling her off course so roughly she was flipped onto her side. She yowled in surprise and twisted around, gazing up into the golden eyes of Lupin.  _ Skinny, yes. Underestimated, extremely. _ It dawned on her in that moment, (and the Legilimency might have had something to do with it,) that he’d run these woods a thousand times over. She’d run them maybe once or twice. Running off without any foreknowledge was not her wisest decision. He refused to release her until she saw just how close she’d come to falling to her death. 

The other two caught up just in time to watch him remove his teeth from around her neck. The dog sneezed, but Lian knew Black was chortling, while Adam’s fur began to rise warningly. She rolled onto her feet and approached him, keeping eye contact until she was near enough. There she reached up and pressed her muzzle to his shoulder until he calmed down. 

_ I should go, _ she thought at him, her senses starting to return since she’d stopped running like a wildcat.  _ Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do twice.  _

**_Stay._ ** The wolf whispered back. She could still remember the fear she’d felt when the wolf first spoke to her. So much had changed. 

_ Goodnight Adam. _

* * *

 

Lian yawned widely, reached for the syrup, and then yawned again. She barely remembered climbing into bed last night, let alone dressing in muggle clothes and dragging herself to the great hall. Pansy was frowning across the table at her, or perhaps she was confused by her  _ Eurythmics _ t-shirt. 

“You got in late last night,” said Blaise slyly. “Daphne and I were still in the common room when you crept in.”

“Doing what?” she yawned again, and gave up on her pancakes altogether. Her dreams had been full of pounding steps and howls from hundreds of werewolves--needless to say she hadn’t rested in peace. 

“Sorry?”

“You and Daphne were still in the common room, you said. Doing what?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Blaise sniffed. “We weren’t wandering the castle doing Merlin knows what with Salazar knows who.”

“No, you’re right, instead you were in the common room doing Helga cares what and Rowena knows how.” Lian replied without thinking. She didn’t think her mind would be doing much of that today.  _ So much for doing better on Charms this week. _

Lupin was missing from the staff table, likely taking breakfast in bed, and the Hufflepuff table was decidedly devoid of the BFG. Vaguely, she wondered how many of his classmates would notice, or whether he’d informed them personally. She’d never forget the look on Vera’s face the day she found out. Her old friend never quite recovered, but was always ready with a dog-related comment. (“Perfect score in Defense again, Adam? Who’s a good boy?”) There seemed to be no dubious chatter among the clan this morning, so she didn’t trouble herself further with it.

Which was lucky, because at that moment, while Blaise was still spluttering indignantly, she was joined by Draco and Theo. “Where were you last night?” Theo asked in an undertone as he served himself a bowl of oatmeal.

“I fancied a walk,” she replied, stifling yet another yawn. “Which quickly turned into a run.”

“Well, while you were getting a breath of fresh air, we could have used your input,” said Draco bitterly.

“Are you saying you want my help?”

“No,” Theo interjected before Draco could snap at her. “He’s just frustrated.”

“Frustrated with what?” asked Pansy, jolting the three of them back to the fact that they were not alone, rather surrounded by people.

“Transfiguration spell,” replied Draco crossly. “No matter how I try, I can’t do it without speaking aloud. Not yet, anyway.” 

Pansy grimaced sympathetically, reaching across the table to place her hand over his, and then smacked it firmly. “Stop whining like a baby; it’s not befitting of the blood that runs through your veins.”

Draco glared at the red mark that appeared on the back of his hand almost instantly, but did not argue. Lian wiped her face with a napkin, speaking softly so only the boys on either side could hear her while her mouth was hidden. “That does it. I’m going to help you.”

“It’s none of your concern-” Theo tried to argue.

“Bite me, Nott,” she replied before he could finish. “You both made it my concern when you blabbed over the summer. You needed my help then, and you’re going to get it now.” She shoveled the last of her pancakes into her mouth and might’ve swallowed them whole, the world may never know. Standing up, she muttered something about all the work she had to get started on, before marching back up the hall and out the doors. 

She didn’t return to the Slytherin common room, she marched directly up the magical staircase (which tried to change her course three different times, but she kept jumping) to the seventh floor. . .

 


	6. Photograph

It was Sunday night, the office was dark except for the burning light from the fireplace. The two wizards had been lost in their own thoughts for quite some time before either spoke.  
“Did you know?” Remus asked quietly, gazing out the window of his office. Sirius poured himself a glass of firewhiskey, before taking a seat opposite his old friend. They hadn’t exactly planned on him coming to Hogwarts for the full moon, it sort of. . .happened. He was able to go out and move freely in public, now that his name had been cleared in the eyes of the Ministry. However, the majority of society hadn’t changed, whatever the government said about the infamous Sirius Black, he would always be the man who murdered thirteen people.   
“Know? About her animagus form? How could I?” Sirius tapped his fingers on the glass but did not drink. “I mean, her younger brother couldn’t stop showing off at Christmas, but I never imagined that it ran in the family.”  
“You don’t think there’s a connection?” Remus asked after a pause.  
Sirius bit his lip, considering the implication of Remus’s words. When he first spotted the beast standing in the moonlit clearing, he was certain he was about to spot someone else standing just beyond the creature. It was just as he’d seen it the first time, standing on five legs and gazing steadily at him. It couldn’t have been real. . .and then. . .it. . .was.   
“Do you?” he countered, stalling on his own answer.  
“I’m almost certain of it,” Remus replied at once. “But other than our witness, there’s no proof. I could attempt to talk to Lian myself, but I don’t think she’d have much to tell me.”  
“You think she doesn’t know?” Sirius prompted.   
“Not anything more than we do, at least,” he answered slowly. “Perhaps I’m wrong, and she has no connection.”  
Sirius put his drink down on the desk and picked up the framed picture that remained the only personal decoration. He stared at the youthful, grinning faces that looked up at him from the old photograph. Remus watched him carefully, gaging his emotions by studying his body language. He was rigid and tense, watching the five of them in the picture, all smiling and laughing with one another. “After all this time. . .I never thought it would be this way. . .”  
He handed the frame to Remus, who stared down at the teenagers interacting in the picture. James was there, of course, himself and Sirius, who had his arm thrown jovially around another boy with long dark hair and silver eyes. On James other side, Peter was trying to pop up on the other side, being a little bit short for the angle of the camera. It had been taken in their sixth year at Hogwarts, on his birthday. They’d just pulled an elaborate prank on the entire staff, and they’d taken the picture in case they didn’t survive the night.  
“She couldn’t know,” Sirius said at long last. “She wasn’t even born until four years later.”  
“Four,” Remus repeated, chewing his tongue. “Now that is interesting.”  
“Moony,” he grunted. “Don’t do anything rash. We still don’t know anything for certain.”  
“You’re right, Padfoot. But since when has that ever stopped us before?”


	7. Ask Nicely

Two weeks into October, and Adam was starting to get into the swing of things. Whatever class he didn't share with Lian he did share with one Hermione Granger, and he made a game of trying to answer questions before she could. He even had a point system going in his head. On occasion he wouldn't know the answer straight away, but he would high five the Gryffindor to give himself time to figure it out. The first time he did this she looked absolutely flabbergasted. (“What was that for? I can't feel my fingers!”) 

As for his house, they were slowly beginning to accept him. Adam suspected their initial hesitance was based on the fact that when asked about himself he answered honestly. While they respected this, it also scared them witless with how blazè he was about it. 

“Where in America are you from?”

“I was born in Canada, but my pack was forced to migrate to Alaska.”

“You mean your family?”

“Sure.”

“What's your favorite food?”

“Elk.”

“Do you like dogs or cats?”

“I want to say cats, but to not say dogs I feel is a form of self-hate, and I don't support that.” 

“Why were your eyes gold a few days ago but now they're hazelish green?”

“Last week was the full moon, and every time it's in its ninetieth to a hundredth percentile my more wolffish characteristics tend to show.” 

“Where’d you get this scar?”

“My brother. We got into a bit of a sparring match over the summer and River began using his fangs a little excessively.” 

“Are you a compulsive liar, Adam?”

“I shouldn't think so, I've never had to lie before.” 

“...are you a werewolf, Adam?”

“Duh.” 

Everyone who had been raised listening to horror stories about Lycanthropes or heard the name Fenrir Greyback instantly withdrew from him in that moment. He could feel them watching him carefully in the hallways, waiting for the moment he lost control and sprouted fur and claws, a stinging hex at the tip of their tongues. 

“Why didn't you tell us before?”

“Nobody asked.” 

He'd been through this at Ilvermorny, and he acted no differently here than there. He kept up with his schedule, threw himself into his homework until he was best, because if he knew anything about wizards and witches; it was that they were less afraid of you if they understood you. If they could label him as a bookworm, they would soften. If they could see him as smart in class and efficient in work, they would relax. If they could see he was just as magically inclined as any of them, they would accept him  in t ime. Though admittedly, he had much less time here than he did at Ilvermorny--Matteo  _ just _ started speaking to him again. 

It was Hannah Abbott who melted first. They were paired together in Herbology and he moved in front of her so she wouldn’t get splattered by undiluted bubotuber pus. As his forearm broke out in large yellow boils, Professor Sprout dismissed him to the hospital wing at once. About an hour later, Hannah found him in their next class to ask how he was doing. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” she sniffed. “I can take a hit.”

“I know you can,” he nodded in earnest. “But if you had taken the blow I figured you’d have sent the venomous tentacula down on my head for not being more careful. So really, I was protecting myself from you.”

She scrutinized him for half a minute before she laughed. “You’ve got that right.”

In a way, she was the snowflake that led the avalanche. The very next day, Justin Finch-Fletchley was asking him for tips on his Charms work, while Leanne McGregor offered to show him how to get into the kitchens. (“In case you want a snack while you do homework.”) Even Ernie Macmillan formally said that he couldn’t judge Adam based on something he couldn’t help. At which point, Adam figured they were ready for the whole story.

“Do you remember the night you were bitten? What happened?” Rolf decided to ask one Friday night while they were all hanging out in the common room. At this, several curious or apprehensive faces turned to look at where Adam sat on the sofa.

“That’s a very good question, Rolf,” he began fairly. “I wish I could give you a satisfactory answer, unfortunately I can’t.”

“You don’t remember, or your mind blocked it out?”

“Neither, I wasn’t actually bitten. I was born of my parents, the same as you all, and just as Susan Bones inherited her red hair from her father, I inherited my lycanthropy from my mother.” Dead silence met this announcement, and Adam bet that many of them were hoping he would add, ‘Just kidding!’ When he did not, he could easily spot the faces of those who wanted to kick him out of the common room. 

“Huh,” grunted Zacharias Smith from where he sat by the fireplace. “I didn’t know that was an option.” he scratched his chin with the tip of his quill before crossing out a mistake on his essay. “For everyone on the quidditch team, don’t forget about practice tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s the Hogsmeade visit!” Tamsin Applebee complained. She’d been a chaser for the past few years and creamed the competition in tryouts this year. 

“It was the only time I could book the pitch!” Zacharias snapped. “The bleeding Slytherins have all but lived on the field and when they’re not, Potter and his crew takeover.”

“So give the day to the Ravenclaw team, and we’ll take over next week.” Cadwallader suggested hopefully. Adam had spotted him blushing while talking to Leanne earlier that week and suspected he had plans of romance for tomorrow. 

Zacharias glanced at Adam before replying. “Don’t think that’s such a good idea. I’d rather practice with all the team members in the air. Maybe I can steal Monday away from Slytherin, but otherwise, tomorrow, bright and early!”

“If I can arrange for practice to be on Monday, will you let it go?” Adam asked boldly. He appreciated the gesture from Zacharias, (and the subtle divergence of focus) but he wouldn’t start wolfing-out until early on Wednesday morning of next week. 

“How exactly do you plan to do that?” asked Tamsin skeptically.

“I’ll ask nicely,” Adam smiled widely at her. “And if that doesn’t work,” his benign smile vanished. “I’ll ask again.”

* * *

 

He found the Lian sitting with Draco Malfoy the next morning at breakfast, and straddled the bench to join them. Malfoy shot him a look of dislike, mixed with a healthy dose of incredulity. “How many times do you have to hear it, Quince--the Hufflepuff table is over there!”

“Yes, I’m well aware, thank you.” he shrugged it off and looked through Mr. Pale-Blond-and-Cranky to Lian who was enjoying her toast. “Question for the Quidditch captain.”

“I’m the Captain!” Malfoy said loudly.

“You are? I had no idea,” Adam gave him a surprised look before looking back at Lian. She looked at him through half-closed lids.

“What is it.”

“Oi-”

“The Hufflepuff team needs Monday night for practice,” Adam began, still addressing Lian, who tilted her head around Malfoy, who was turning his head between them as though watching a riveting tennis match between his shoulders.

“Slytherin’s signed up for Monday, I believe,” Lian replied silkily.

“Yes, but you’ve had almost a month of consistent practice--they’ve only managed a couple of practice times. Surely, an elite team such as yours can afford a night off.”

“Stop talking to her, I’m the bloody captain!” 

“I don’t know, Quince,” Lian said briskly. “It’s called consistent practice for a reason.”

Adam gave her a patronizing stare before he switched languages. “Mon chéri, auriez-vous la bonté d'accorder à l'équipe de Poufsouffle la pratique du lundi soir?”

Lian blinked, before she came right back with, “Ecoute, loup-garou, ça va te coûter pour que cela soit réalisé. Vous devrez peut-être corrompre le capitaine. Le visage de la pauvre chose est devenu rouge.”

Malfoy’s face was actually nearly maroon by that point. “JE PEUX PARLER FRANÇAIS!”

Adam squinted at Lian. “お願いします？” Using the only word in Japanese he knew.

Lian laughed. “ちょっと待ってください,” she turned to a rather disgruntled Draco Malfoy with an appeasing look in her eye. “Can you be bribed?” 

“Kowalski,” he growled. 

“Can you be persuaded?” She tried again, likely against her better judgement. “S'il vous plaît? pour les petits Poufsouffles?”

Draco puffed out his chest, before finally replying, “Je suis le capitaine. Laisse-le me demander.” He then slowly turned to look at Adam, trying and failing to keep his intimidating demeanor. To be fair, it would have worked if Adam hadn't been at least half a foot taller than him. “Well?”

Adam looked a question at Lian who mouthed a word before he spoke. Clearing his throat, he enunciated so loudly the merfolk could have heard him. “What’s this? Captain Draconequus Lucius Malfoy wants to trade practice times with Captain Zacharias Edmund Smith esquire? How shall you answer, Mister Smith?” 

Watching the exchange, like the rest of the hall, Zach nodded mutely. 

“Your offer is MOST WELCOME,  _ Capitaine _ .” Adam smirked at the look on Malfoy’s face, and removed himself before the angry little Brit could recover. He mouthed to the rest of the team hurriedly. ‘Go! Go! Go!’ Echoing laughter followed them as they ran out of the hall, listening in delight to Malfoy’s explosion. 

“That was hilarious!” Tamsin cried as they rushed for the grounds. “He looked ready to kill you!” 

“That's still a probability,” Adam shrugged. “They still might not concede, but we can wrestle that out on Monday.” He glanced over at Cadwallader. “Have fun today.”

The chaser looked surprised, but smiled as Leanne came out of the hall and trotted towards him. Grinning cutely, they held hands and walked off together. 

Tamsin opened her mouth to make an observation, but stopped when Hannah approached. “Are you going to Hogsmeade later then, Quince?”

_ Oh. I recognize that tone.  _ “I don't know. I was gonna see what Lian wanted to do.”

Both Hannah and Tamsin exchanged a look. “Oh. Are you two..?” 

What was he supposed to say? It was complicated, or not really but one day soon, or hopefully? He very much did not want to get into the technical dealings of his soul and Lian's ideology of not dating until after she’d left school. She'd explained it to him once when they were twelve; something about her parents and how they met and it was better when it was saved, blah, blah, blah. He used to think that if he could trick her into going on one date she’d catch feelings and change her mind: but, he'd underestimated her stubbornness. 

Rather than explain all of this, he went with the simplest answer. “Yes.”  _ I mean, I'm playing the long game anyway. _

“Wow. That's good to know,” said Hannah, wearing an expression that should have made Adam nervous. He was a little slow on the uptake however, and mistook it for support. 

* * *

 

“No, I was gonna stay in the castle,” Lian shrugged from where she stood by, watching him. Malfoy had ambushed him as he left the Hufflepuff common room and Adam was currently hanging upside down while his own scarf pinned his arms and legs together. Malfoy and Nott stood underneath him, smirking victoriously, albeit slightly let down by the fact that Adam and Lian carried on a conversation as though this happened all the time. “Why?”

Trying not to think about Leanne and Cadwallader skipping off into the distance, Adam shrugged as best as he could. “It’s just...I’d heard a lot about the village and thought it might be neat and you know how I prefer to travel in groups,” he winked down at her.

“Think we should let him down?” Nott asked.

“Perhaps. All at once or bit by bit?” Malfoy countered.

“Just let him fall,” Lian said dismissively, examining her nails. Adam opened his mouth to interject, but the very next second he landed flat on the stone floor--fortunately his shoulders and back took most of the fall, rather than his head. He suspected she had something to do with that, and it was a remarkably soft collision. 

“So, will you come?” he grunted, before jumping to his feet. “Your lackey’s are welcome, of course.”

“I’m nobody’s lackey!” Nott snapped. 

“Whatever you are-”

“Adam.” Lian called for his attention, simultaneously summoning the others’ as well. “Be nice. Theo’s my ally.”

Adam bit his tongue but said nothing on the matter. He’d talk to her later in private. He jerked his head at Malfoy. “And him?”

“He’s the stray cat you find wandering lost on the wrong side of town and take home to feed it a can of tuna, and then it never leaves.” 

“Hey!” Malfoy cried indignantly. 

“No, no, that’s pretty accurate,” said Nott. 

“Well?” Adam pressed, his eyes not leaving Lian. She sighed, folded her arms and glanced between the Slytherin boys and him. 

“I’ll fetch my coat,” she finally answered, retreating down the hall. 

In ten minutes, she, Tweedle D and Tweedle Nott were standing with Adam waiting to be cleared by the caretaker, who was prodding everyone who was headed to village with Secrecy Sensors. They watched in slight amusement as Ron Weasley got extra pokes for being mouthy. 

Adam noticed Lian was wearing her Ilvermorny scarf, as he was, though her cloak was remarkably more Slytherin--it must’ve been a gift. He glanced at the boys standing beside her, wondering which of them it had been. 

“Astoria, actually.” Lian muttered, inching closer to Filch.

“What?”

“Astoria gave this to me last year,” she explained, glancing down at the silvery cloak. 

“Which one is she again?” Adam asked. “Is she the girl with the generally sour expression?”

“No, that’s Millie, and I wouldn’t say that to her face if you want to keep your toes.” Lian smiled as he glanced thoughtfully at his shoes. 

The trip to Hogsmeade was not particularly pleasant, fighting against the wind and sleet and slowly losing all their body heat. Adam noticed that a few of the shops had been  boarded up once they arrived in the busy street, or maybe they’d been like that for a while now. Malfoy led the way into an establishment called  _ The Three Broomsticks _ , which turned out to be a bar, or rather a  _ pub _ . Malfoy and Lian moved to order drinks while Nott moved through the crowd like a shadow, claiming a table in the far corner. Adam hated to admit that he was impressed at their coordination, so he kept his mouth shut for once. He followed after Nott, though not nearly as stealthily and accidentally bumped into quite a few people.

Once he was seated, Nott struck. “How long have you known Kowalski?”

“Since our first year at school, though if you’re talking about the Kowalski’s in general I met her brother in my second year and her sister in my sixth-” Adam began unabashedly.

“I’ve met her family, but they’re not what I wanted to talk about.” Nott said smoothly. “I was only wondering how someone who claims and appears to know someone so well acts without a thought for the other’s needs.”

“Excuse me?”

“Lian’s only here because you didn’t have the guts to come on your own. She’s too compassionate for her own good, but you shouldn’t mistake her pity for something else-”

“Rosmerta still won’t let me order firewhiskey,” Malfoy grumbled as he took the chair beside Nott, effectively ending the other boys’ train of thought.

“I’m telling you, if you grew a moustache,” Lian said teasingly. “She’d let you buy anything.”

“Yeah,” Nott agreed with a nod. “Because she’d be too busy laughing to care how old you are.”

Adam was frowning across at Nott, who was content to play along as though nothing had happened. Most of the Slytherin’s he’d met so far were pretty good at that. He didn’t like it. Lian nudged him with her foot under the table.

“You okay?” she asked softly, while Malfoy and Nott argued about whether or not blond facial hair was manly or fey. “Were you guys talking about something?”

Adam looked down at her. Her cheeks were bright red from being outside still, her dark eyes were steady as they fixed upon his, and her hair was falling loosely around her face and shoulders. He wanted to save that image of her in his mind forever--it was her luck that his wolf instincts were dormant otherwise he might not have been able to withhold himself. “You’re the mind-reader,” he murmured in reply. “You tell me.”


	8. Instinct

Something was different. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something was out of step. They were on the couch in the safety of their own common room. For the last few days, she’d noticed Adam treating Theo the same way she’d treated him for almost a year and a half after he started beating her in classes. Tense, aggravated, and without verbal complaint. As much as she wanted answers, she had more pressing issues to worry about. Staying on top of her homework, pestering Harry about bringing the DA back from the dead, researching the  properties of portkeys , and quidditch practice. 

To keep herself from assassinating Draco in the middle of the night, she vented her frustrations and anger about his leadership style by shouting every word in Japanese her mother had ever spoken. (When Lian and her siblings had given her a particularly rough time as kids, Amaya Strother-Kowalski would revert to her first language and that had been Lian’s exposure to the oriental language. Everything she knew by heart was something she ought not say in front of someone who was fluent in Japanese.)

At the end of a particularly chilly practice, Draco called them over into a huddle for a few last-minute announcements. He was holding a piece of parchment in the hand that wasn’t nursing his collarbone--an injury for which none of the team would take the blame. 

“There’s been a change to the match this weekend,” he said clearly, effectively silencing Blaise and Goyle’s argument over who stood on whose foot. “Gryffindor’s beaters clobbered each other during practice and they can’t find replacements in time, so we’re up against Hufflepuff instead.”

Urquhart and Astoria pounded the air with their fists. “Too easy!”

“Don’t be so sure,” said Blaise snidely. “Smith’s a brutal captain, and he made an entirely new line-up this year. Their try-outs was the stuff of nightmares, you could hear the second years crying from the library.” He crossed his arms. “From what I understand, they didn’t even fill all the positions the first time around.”

Astoria frowned at him, lowering her hands to her side. “Buzzkill.”

Lian glanced at the parchment Draco was holding. “What else does it say?”

“It’s the team line-up,” he said slowly. “And I’m questioning Smith’s choices.”

“Why?”

“The chasers are Smith, Applebee and Cadwallader; seeker is Summerby, and the beaters are two seventh years called O’Flaherty and Rickett…” he trailed off. Astoria looked thoughtful while he listed off names.

“I think Applebee’s in my year. I think. She might be a year older.”

Blaise moved to peer over Draco’s shoulder at the parchment and groaned softly.

“What? What is it?” Urquhart asked.

“The Keeper,” Blaise said through gritted teeth.

“What about them?”

“Put it this way,” said Draco. “Depending on the way he rides his broom, he could block all three goals without moving.”

Lian closed her eyes, as if that would make it untrue. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

* * *

 

The morning of the quidditch match dawned bright and beaming, not that the Slytherins knew until they crept out of the dungeons to join the living. The Quidditch team entered and joined their table in the hall amidst howls and cheers from their supporters clad in green. Pansy and Daphne had awoken early to paint the faces of anyone that wanted it. They'd gotten Lian before she'd awoken, so she now sported black and silver eyeliner. She'd prevented them from applying green lip stain, thankfully. 

When the Hufflepuff Quidditch team arrived and nearly everyone else in the hall erupted into applause, Lian tried to not take it personally. She looked for Adam amidst the yellow chaos but wasn’t terribly surprised when she couldn’t find him. Tonight was going to be a big night for him, after all. If he was smart, he’d be sleeping in this morning. Lupin seemed to be--he was absent from the staff table, though his seat was not empty. Taking his place, and unnoticed by the excitable crowd, was Sirius Black. He was chatting pleasantly with McGonagall and Hagrid, talking animatedly with his hands. For the briefest of moments, he glanced towards the Slytherin table and locked eyes with Lian. She felt completely frozen as she stared into his silver eyes, but then the moment had passed and he’d looked away. 

He’d probably come for the Quidditch match, and nobody told him Gryffindor wasn’t playing.  _ Well technically he’d come for Lupin, _ Lian thought pragmatically.  _ But that won’t be until moonrise. _

“Hey,” Theo captured her attention from where he sat cater-corner across the table. “Good luck.”

She smiled confidently. “Thanks.”

“Come on,” Draco called to the team. He led them out of the hall to a chorus of boos from the other three houses. The whole house, decorated with their black, silver and green war paint glared back intimidatingly, but otherwise did not retaliate. The effect was worth it, Lian thought as she took note of the looks of fear that crossed the majority of faces. 

They changed in silence, no banter or criticism passing their lips: it was game time. 

Standing on the field they awaited the opposing team, and also the crowd as the stands began to fill out. It was the first game of the season, so most of the school was bound to show up. Finally, the seven players clad in yellow marched out onto the field, and among them, was a strapping, six foot seven, wild haired, golden eyed _ loup-garou. _

While Madam Hooch listed off the rules and the teams stared each other down, Lian mouthed up at him, ‘Are you crazy?!’

He bared his teeth in a wicked smile, before replying, ‘Only for you.’

Draco and Zacharias shook hands, or rather, tried to break each others’ knuckles. Afterwards they mounted their brooms and took up their positions in the air. On the whistle, Lian shot forward and claimed the quaffle before Smith could. Cradling the ball between her ankles she pulled a spiral dive to avoid him and Applebee, before passing it off to Blaise who took off around the edge of the pitch to dodge a bludger from Rickett.

That’s around the time Lian registered the commentator, who had a rather dreamy and vague voice that could only belong to one person. “This is looking to be an exciting game, even though the Gryffindor’s came down with a case of Flutterby Phalange.” said Luna Lovegood over the megaphone. Lian gave the commentators box a look and saw Professor McGonagall looking nervous about this decision. “Here come Blitz Sanguini up to the new Keeper from Hufflepuff. He’s really tall, I wonder how his broom keeps him airborne. . .” the crowd below was laughing, both at Luna’s slaughtering of Blaise’s name, and her diagnosis of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

Lian sped up the field to get a better look at Blaise’s shot. He feinted left and aimed right, the quaffle sailed beautifully through the air when Adam’s hand appeared out of nowhere and caught it. He threw it to one of his teammates immediately, and Lian swerved to give pursuit, meanwhile her brain was still registering what she’d just seen. He’d caught the quaffle single-handedly. . .

_ We’re doomed. _ A part of her whispered.

_ No, we’ll be okay. Confidence, Lian! _ Her more competitive side shot back. 

“. . . now that big Hufflepuff player's got the quaffle, I can't remember his name,it's something like Bibble - no, Buggins-" 

"It's Cadwallader!" said Professor Mcgonagall loudly from beside Luna. The crowd laughed.  Lian raced up the field and soared alongside Cadwallader, knowing perfectly well that he’d drop the quaffle if she punched it from out of his arm--but she’d tried that last year against Ravenclaw and she’d earned a foul. Goyle smacked a bludger at Cadwallader, who ducked but dropped the quaffle where Urquhart, who was flying below, was able to seize it. In unison, she and her fellow chaser shot into the air and climbed several feet before flipping back and zooming up the pitch again. Lian flew guard for Urquhart, which meant that if either Rickett or O’Flaherty tried to hit the chaser in possession, she’d take the attack to keep the other chaser free to score. 

_ WHOOSH! _ Sure enough, a bludger from O’Flaherty came careening through the air toward Urquhart. Lian swerved to take the hit, and it crashed into her right arm, before it zoomed away again. The crowd shouted below, and she knew that several of them had to be shocked that she would willingly take a direct hit, but to be honest she didn’t feel a thing. She glanced at her metal arm to make sure it wasn’t dented or horribly disfigured, before turning to watch Urquhart make the first goal. Adam had drifted off to one side to watch her, see if she was alright. 

. . .which gave her a terrible idea.

“I don’t think the bludger actually hit her, you know there’s a man who invented a broom that has a shield charm upon it--which sounds like a good idea initially but then nobody could mount the broom because they kept bouncing off of the charm. . .” Luna was telling the crowd, while McGonagall leaned over to announce the score.

“Ten-zero, to Slytherin!”

“You alright?” Draco called as they flew alongside each other briefly. “That hit had to break something.”

Lian flashed her silver wrist at him. “I’m fine.”

Grinning, he shot away in pursuit of the Snitch. Lian caught up to Smith and blocked him from making a goal against Astoria. Blaise swooped in and stole the quaffle, becoming Rickett’s next target. Lian dived, attempting to make it in time, but Crabbe beat her to the punch, literally, and whacked the bludger toward Adam.

“Nice shot!” she called to him as she flew past, catching the quaffle as Blaise performed a Reverse Pass, where he tossed the quaffle over his shoulder at her. She had Smith, Cadwallader and Applebee shooting towards her, so she took off in a Woollongong Shimmy. Reaching the goal posts relatively unhindered, she charged directly towards Adam, whose golden eyes grew larger the closer she came.

“I think Lian’s forgotten how to play Quidditch, she’s headed straight for the Keeper, showing no intent of throwing or passing the ball. Maybe they’re about to do something American--though I think someone said Adam was from Canada. I wonder which sport is more popular in wizarding Canada, because the muggles play this mad game on ice called-oh!” Luna gasped along with the rest of the crowd at what happened next. 

Within inches of a collision, Lian stopped her brooms momentum abruptly, while the end rose up and flipped her forward, until she was hanging by her right hand from her broomstick alongside the Hufflepuff Keeper. The quaffle was no longer in her possession, as she’d thrown it into the middle goalpost midway through the flipping process. Once this registered with the onlookers and the team members, the Slytherin supporters went wild.

“ARE YOU INSANE!?” Adam roared at her. He watched as she hauled herself back onto her broom, smirking in satisfaction. “Don’t look so pleased, there’s no way that’ll work again!”

“No,” Lian agreed with a nod. “But there are other things I’m willing to try.” She took off into the air, leaving him a bit on edge.  _ Serve him right for playing in his condition. _

The game lasted another half hour, the chasers wrestling over the quaffle for any and every opportunity to score a point. Astoria saved most of them, except for a few well aimed shots from Smith; while Adam saved every shot that Lian wasn’t involved with--a pattern that the whole pitch picked up on rather quickly. Luna alternated between actually commenting on the players, to different things she’d noticed about today, including but not limited to the weather. McGonagall kept them up to date with the score though, and Hufflepuff led by a small margin. 

“Sixty; fifty, to Hufflepuff!” was the most recent announcement when finally, it happened. With a sudden swerve of his broom, Malfoy seemed to punch the air, before withdrawing something small and gold from his left sleeve. 

“Oh, is it over already?” Luna asked into the megaphone, as the whole of the green clad supporters erupted. Lian fell into formation with her team, as they made a victory lap over the stands before heading in for a landing. Already, several of their supporters had run out onto the field to meet them. Lian spotted Daphne brandishing a banner emblazoned with the phrase,  _ My sister’s a Keeper! _ Daphne tackled her younger sister in a fierce hug, dropping the ladylike exterior for a precious moment. Many people clapped her on the back, someone called her invincible, Pansy and Millie both gave her a bone crushing hug.

“I thought you were dead, many times in the last hour I was convinced you’d died!” yelled Daphne from where she stood suffocating Astoria. 

“It’d take a lot more than a bludger to take her down,” said Theo, who had been a victim to Pansy’s war paint path. Lian laughed at the sight of him with scales all over his cheeks. “She was flying faster than sight in some parts--Hufflepuff never stood a chance.”

“We’re celebrating in the common room!” someone, probably Pansy, cried for all to hear. “Come on, let’s go!” 

* * *

 

Theo and Draco waited for her outside of the locker room's. She was surprised, only because she imagined Draco riding the victory wave all the way to the castle, but apparently walking with the calmer and louder people (respectively) in his life was more inviting. They fell into step easily as they approached the castle, but then Draco veered off and began walking toward the lake.

“Um,” Lian coughed, wondering if he’d finally snapped.

“I don’t want to go in yet,” he said simply. Theo shrugged and followed after him, reaching back and grabbing Lian’s hand to pull her along. The three of them settled upon the bank and gazed out across the water. Several minutes passed without either of them saying a word, until finally Theo withdrew something small from his pocket, holding it up for the other two to see.

“So. . .I was fiddling with it this morning,” he began hesitantly. Draco’s head swiveled around to look at the object, his eyes narrowing. Lian bit her tongue, reserving immediate judgement; she knew Theo well enough to realize that he had a reason for breaching the subject.

“Is that why you were awake at the crack of dawn?” Draco asked. 

“I couldn’t sleep. I came across a spell during my Ancient Runes study that gave me an idea that I had to attempt.” Theo paused, gaging their reactions based on expression alone. Lian kept her face blank, and Draco’s remained scornful. “And while I was determined to wait and try it with you two--you were so fixated on the match and your training that I had to hold off.”

“We get it.” Lian said at last. “We were focused, so you didn’t say anything. What did you do?”

He swallowed, before placing the object back in his pocket. “I sort of. . .made it work. . .again.”

“You what-!” Lian spoke up, but the three of them froze when the sound of a twig snapping sounded from nearby. Cliche, perhaps, but when Lian laid eyes on the perpetrator, she had a feeling it was intentional. After last month, she’d never forget the sight of the large black dog.

“Is that Hagrid’s dog?” Theo asked, confused.

“No, it’s not-” said Draco, frowning at the animal as it leered at them through the dying grass. He paused when Lian rolled onto her feet and marched over to it. “What- Kowalski, it’s just-”

At her approach, the dog turned tail and began to run headlong into the forbidden forest. Draco shouted something at her, probably something like Stop! but she charged straight after it. 

Black led her along a merry little dance through to woods, probably in an effort to make her feel lost. When the afternoon sun could no longer peek through the thick canopy of leaves and branches, the dog transformed into a man. She heard his barking laughter from a long way off, and when she finally found him leaning against a tree, she pulled her wand on him. “What do you want!”

“Now, whoever said I wanted anything?” He replied dramatically. “You’ve surrounded yourself with rather interesting friends,” he went on seriously. 

“By interesting you mean-?”

“Well, I know you’re in Slytherin house but that doesn’t mean you have to follow around the apex Slytherins.” Black shrugged his shoulders. “Spoiled brats if I know anything about the way they were raised-and I do.”

“Why, because you were raised the same way?” Lian quipped. “And I don’t  _ follow _ anyone. It’s them that follow me, if anything.”

“Since we’re on the subject of families,” Black began darkly, “how’s your brother?”

“Good,” replied Lian tersely. 

“Are you all natural transfigurers in your family or is it a happy coincidence?” The question felt tense, but Lian didn’t understand why. 

“...I repeat. What do you want?”

“You risked life and gave up limb to save mine last June,” said Black plainly. “Not because you cared for me, I dare say, but rather on instinct. The way someone would look after their own…”

Lian squinted at him, completely lost. “What are you saying?” 

Black looked back at her, and his eyes screamed volumes but his lips remained sealed. She was tempted to scan his mind, it would be so easy to peel back her own walls and surge through his defences. Whatever he was thinking would be revealed to her in seconds, all she had to do was look. . . But did she want to know? She’d learned the hard way that sometimes learning was worse than imagining. She’d never seen Black withhold information in her brief encounters with him; if he was hesitating now. . .what could that mean? Should she? Was it worth the risk? Recently she hadn’t so much as dived into her Legilimency as taken what she needed at the time, in small doses here and there--like the last weekend when Adam decided to pull his French on her. To pull something so drastic now. . .not that there was another way to glean the information. If Black really intended to tell her anything he’d have blurted it out by now. 

“Are you planning on running with the wolves tonight?” Black asked, abruptly changing the subject. “After his defeat today I’m sure  _ he _ could use something to temper his anger. . .and I’d rather he didn’t try to take it out on Remus.”

“I’m not a wolf. I have a life, and I have other matters to sort out.” She had decided. Black could keep his secrets today. “Have fun wrestling with a born lycan who sulks like a pro.”

“You’re sure?”

“You said it yourself, Black. I don’t care for you, and I don’t care for Lupin. Adam’s a big boy, and he can deal with his problems on his own.” She stowed her wand in her pocket and backed away from him slowly. “I don’t know why you look at me like I’m hiding something--like you’re any different--but you need to stop. I have bigger fish to fry, as it were. Whatever you think I am, or know--it doesn’t matter, because it is none of your business.”

“Lian-” Black addressed her, as if he intended to add something that would shatter her understanding of the world, as if his next few words would change everything, and she was not going to let that happen.

She shifted into the Wampus Cat, sent the wizard one last glare, and darted off through the trees as fast as her five paws would carry her. 


	9. Funny Business

The most remarkable thing about October to Adam was that no one dressed up on Halloween. Back at Ilvermorny, the whole school would get involved--one year  the entire student body dressed up in Hogwarts robes and talked in British accents all day. Adam vaguely remembered it being Lian’s idea. 

November came and went with colder weather, more homework, and less sightings of her, and he checked everywhere when they weren’t in class. She wasn’t in the library, out on the grounds, or-if her friends Pansy and Millie were to be believed-her own common room. During the full moon days he tried sniffing her out but that only led him to a dead end on the seventh floor. 

The very next day, he was almost convinced that she wasn’t anywhere within Hogwarts castle, her scent almost felt. . .stale. But then he arrived at Transfiguration and there she was, chatting with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger amicably. “I heard McGonagall was going to ease us in on practical self-transfiguration soon. . .I accidentally gave myself a pair of rabbit ears in my second year, so hopefully we won’t suffer a repeat.”

“I don’t know, I could do with a proper laugh,” replied Hermione. Adam noticed she was looking a bit strained, while Potter’s usual friend, Ron Weasley was ignoring her. Ravenclaw and Gryffindor had a quidditch match the previous week, and Gryffindor had won by a landslide--Weasley had saved every goal as though his gloves had a magnetic pull to the quaffle. One would think after such a victory, he’d be glowing. 

“Yeah well, how about we give the ears to Ron this time?” said Lian conspiratorially.  Adam moved forward into the room to stand at the desk she was sitting on. Class likely wouldn’t start for another five minutes, so he slipped his arms around Lian’s waist and rested his forehead on his shoulder, breathing deeply. “Morning sleepyhead,” she grunted. 

“You’ve been busy,” he muttered. “Why is that?”

“Don’t try to keep track of me,” she whispered in reply. “The last person that tried was never seen again.” She allowed him a moment before hopping out of his embrace and moving over to the Slytherin side. He saw Nott and Malfoy frown a question at her, that she shrugged off and turned to Daphne.

“Your name’s Adam, right?” He looked around and saw the Harry Potter looking up at him. For a world famous kid, he was incredibly scrawny. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Not officially.”

Harry opened his mouth to speak further, when Zacharias marched over. “Quince, we’ve got practice tonight; that’s not going to be a problem with your. . .thing is it?”

“Come on Zach, find a more awkward way to phrase it, won’t you?” Adam scoffed. “The moon’s waning anyway--I’ll be fine.”

“Wait, what?” Ron Weasley looked around at the mention of the moon. 

“You sure?” asked Zacharias, ignoring the ginger. 

“Positive. If you can’t take my word for it, check whether Professor Lupin is teaching today--really that should be enough.” Adam hated that he had to bring up the bitten wolf, but he was the only point of reference for someone as doubting as his Quidditch Captain.

“What about Lupin?” Harry asked, looking between them.

“None of your concern, Potter,” said Zacharias arrogantly. Adam rolled his eyes.

“It’s no big deal. Really, if people haven’t figured out that I’m a werewolf by now then they haven’t been paying attention. And I feel like that reflects poorly on the educators of this school.” The moment he stopped talking, he became acutely aware of how silent the classroom was. 

Then, “Is that true?” Nott directed the question at Lian, who had covered her eyes with one hand. People began repeating the word  _ werewolf _  in whispered conversations like it was something bad, forbidden. Harry was staring up at Adam in a new light, and he’d yet to determine whether that was a good or bad sign. Hermione whispered something in his ear which made him nod fervently. 

Adam wasn’t worried. If Hufflepuff house could get over it, then he had faith in the rest of the school; and if not, well, he didn’t really care what they thought. There was only one person in the entire world who mattered to him. . .and she was resting her hand on Nott’s shoulder while she spoke to him.

“Right then,” McGonagall strode into class, calling for the attention. “Today you will be attempting to change the color of your own hair. . .”

* * *

 

The news that Hogwarts was hosting not one, but two werewolves spread within hours, but it continued to haunt Adam’s footsteps for the next two weeks. He even noticed some amount of trepidation in Slughorn’s eyes when he told Adam to bring a plus one to his Christmas party. 

“I want you to understand that I know it isn’t your fault,” said the old potions professor in an undertone. He probably didn’t want to offend Adam in case word got back to his ‘famous relative’. “Nasty business, lycanthropy. If you ever need anything from me, dear boy-”

“Thanks, Professor,” Adam said quickly. “But it really isn’t as awful as everyone wants to believe. Not when it’s handled properly, which I’m sad to say I’ve yet to see a hint of in the British isles. I look forward to your party, thanks so much for the invitation.”

“Of course, of course m’boy,” said Slughorn, patting his waistcoat distractedly. Adam tried not to think of it as him washing off the lycanthrope germs. “Don’t forget the plus one!”

_ Couldn’t if I tried. _ There was only one person he would want to invite anywhere, and he knew that if he asked her now, she’d turn him down. He’d seen it before, after all she wasn’t unattractive; boys would gather their courage and request a date in her presence all the time at Ilvermorny. One after another she sent them away dejectedly. He’d be bound for the very same fate, unless he was very lucky. . . _ Lucky. . . _

He made a quick detour to his dormitory before lunch. He only needed a few drops, not a whole day’s worth. He didn’t feel anything for a moment after he’d swallowed.  Then, slowly but surely, an exhilarating sense of infinite opportunity stole through him; he felt as though he could have done anything, anything at all. . .

Brimming with confidence, he marched out of the Hufflepuff common room, past the painting of fruit that concealed the kitchens, up the marble staircase and several more flights of stairs. He came to the seventh floor corridor and spotted Lian pacing up and down it, her eyes shut in concentration.

“Hello!” he called cheerfully, spooking her a bit. She was so cute when she was jumpy, and positively adorable when she looked at him like she was going to kill him in three seconds. 

After she finished hissing profanities about Merlin and his every part, she straightened her robes and looked across at him evenly. “What do you want now?”

“I was just thinking back to my first day as a Hogwarts student,” he said easily, as he began to approach her in the seemingly abandoned corridor. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah see, there’s one detail I can’t figure out, no matter how hard I look at it,” which was true. He’d wondered for days on end about this. “Why did you want me to win that lucky potion?”

Lian bit her lip, glancing sideways before back up at him. “I didn’t like Slughorn’s attitude of doting on some students more than others.” She was evading the true answer, putting up a smokescreen to confuse him with. The potion urged him to try again, gently and earnestly, to make her feel safe with him.

“I get that. It’s annoying to watch on both sides, believe me. But. . .I don’t need luck. Everything I am today is because I worked hard, luck never had anything to do with it. But you wanted that potion to land in my possession…so badly, you were willing to risk detention on some level. Questioning the way a teacher works? That’s first year Lian.”

“It’s not important why-”

“I respectfully disagree. You forget that I  _ know _ you, Lian. I’ve never seen you do anything unless you had a good reason for it. Someone with abilities like yours doesn’t know how to act otherwise.” He sighed deeply. “Are you planning to set me up for something?”

“No, of course not-”

“Then what?”

She growled in frustration. “Fine. I’ll tell you but don’t hold it against me, okay, because you know I’m right in believing this. . .I thought I might need the potion. But there was no way I was going to win, and I thought that it would be easier to get it from you than from Harry.” She crossed her arms defensively. “Satisfied?”

He moved closer still. “Not quite. Do you still need it?”

“Maybe. Are you going to hide it from me?”

“We both know I can’t hide anything from you.” He gave her a quirky grin. “I have a proposition for you, that will get you what you want, and remove any lasting resentment I might hold over you for trying to manipulate me. Again.”

She suddenly became very interested in her shoes, refusing to meet his gaze. “I’m listening.”

“Slughorn’s hosting this stupid party type thing, and he’s making his favorites come so he can show off to more important wizards or something. If you come and make jokes about everyone behind their backs with me, I will give you the potion for Christmas.”

He almost had her, and then her wits made her pause. “. . .so, you want me to be your date.”

“Not. . .necessarily.”

“Counter offer,” she went on, still not meeting his eyes. “You give me the potion today, we both skip out on Slughorn’s party and save ourselves the trouble.”

“That’s a good offer,” he nodded. “It’s very good. . .except I’m pretty sure Slughorn said something about  _ the Weird Sisters  _ being there.”

Lian tensed, and he could practically hear her brain stop functioning for a moment. He tried to hide his triumphant grin; if all else failed, the way to reach Lian’s heart and soul was music. She refused to answer for another five minutes, and when she finally did answer, it was in an undertone. “Fine.” And then she snapped her eyes onto his, and  _ ah, there’s the fire. _ She shoved her index finger up into his face. “ **But there will be no funny business.** ”

“Deal.” Adam wondered how long he could wait before admitting that he’d used the very same lucky potion to draw this reaction out of her. Hopefully for several years, around which time surely she’d have settled down.

* * *

 

When the night came, Adam followed her scent to a bla n k stretch of wall somewhere in the dungeons. Wondering if she’d somehow managed to pull a fast one over him, he was caught unawares when she appeared out of nowhere in the corridor. 

All his nerves disappeared for the few seconds they appraised each other—this time without wands drawn. She cleaned up nicely, for all her days wearing band t-shirts, jeans torn at the knees, sweat pants, huge hoodies and running with the boys, Adam had briefly wondered if she knew how to look like a girl. He realized now that he shouldn’t have doubted. Her dress robes were midnight blue, her hair was styled in a complicated braid that fell elegantly over one shoulder, and the only adornment she bore was a silver ring on her left index finger. He’d never seen it before and made a mental note to ask about it later. 

“I’m not gonna ask how you knew to be here,” she sighed, sounding bored already, and the night had not yet begun. She strode past him, hopefully in the direction of the upper floors because frankly, Adam was quite lost. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Aren’t you wondering if you look nice or something?” he asked in her wake. Anthem and Nyx always warned him to compliment a girl no matter what she looked like, but Lian didn’t seem to care whether he was insulted by her dress or not.

“I don’t dress up for you--I was promised a famous musician or two, and I intend to impress on sight,” she called back, turning the corner and climbing the stairs that would lead to the great hall. There they spotted a rather large group of girls whispering together as they leered at the couple climbing the marble staircase together. Adam recognized Harry as one half of the couple, but the girl with the long hair he’d never spoken to. Lian rushed to catch up with them, linking arms with the girl. “Oh thank Slytherin you’re going to be there, Luna,” she sighed happily. Sensing that he was about to be left behind, Adam picked up the pace. 

Harry’s date, Luna, smiled warmly at Lian, before her large eyes turned upon Adam. “You’re the werewolf they’re all talking about,” she said in a vague and wispy voice that took Adam by surprise. “It’s rather brave, you know,” she went on in his silence. “Being so open about something that most people are inclined to hate or fear.”

“I didn’t tell people because I wanted to be seen as brave,” Adam replied once he found out where his tongue was. “I tell people because I don’t have anything to hide.”

Luna nodded as he spoke. “Well reasoned.”

Lian was talking to Harry about who was supposed to turn up. Apparently Slughorn had invited an actual vampire, and the captain of the Holyhead Harpies. Adam could sense no romantic tension between Harry and Luna; if he didn’t know any better, he’d think they were brother and sister. He was tempted to take another dose of the lucky potion, but was afraid Lian would catch him. 

The four of them arrived at Slughorn’s office, which had to have been extended to fill the hosts of people milling around inside of it. Adam took notice of the mistletoe hanging from various spots on the ceiling with a sense of hope. 

“Harry,  Adam! ” boomed Slughorn, almost as soon as they squeezed in through the door. “Come in, come in, so many people I’d like you to meet!”

Slughorn was wearing a tasseled velvet hat to match his smoking jacket. Gripping Harry’s arm so tightly he might have been hoping to Disapparate with him, Slughorn led them purposefully into the party.

“Boys, I’d like you to meet Eldred Worple, an old student of mine, author of  _ Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires-- _ and, of course, his friend Sanguini.”

Worple, who was a small, stout, bespectacled man, grabbed their hands and shook them enthusiastically; the vampire Sanguini, who was tall and emaciated with dark shadows under his eyes, merely nodded. He looked rather bored. A gaggle of girls was standing close to him, looking curious and excited.

Adam had never met a real vampire before, but he hadn’t anticipated that they would smell so terribly. He cleared his throat to cover the gag that was fighting its way up his esophagus. 

“Harry Potter, I am simply delighted!” said Worple, peering shortsightedly up at them. “I was saying to Professor Slughorn only the other day, ‘ _ Where is the biography of Harry Potter for which we have all been waiting?’ _ ”

“Er,” said Harry, “were you?”

Adam seized the chance to look around the room, wondering where their dates had got to. Luna became distracted by a witch with large glasses that magnified her eyes like an insect's, and moved to chat with her. Lian-Adam craned his neck to locate her, as she seemed to have been absorbed by the crowd the moment they entered. He finally found her, of course, over by what had to be two members of  _ The Weird Sisters _ . 

Relaxing a bit, he turned back to listen to Slughorn boast. Harry had escaped to argue with Hermione Granger in the corner--who looked pretty but a bit out of sorts-- _ Ooh. _ He watched the reserve Gryffindor keeper move out from the crowd and approach Harry, (Hermione had miraculously disappeared,) and then move on with his search. 

Feeling a bit anxious, he glanced back at Lian and the band members, who were actually enjoying a pretty animated conversation. He wanted to move closer, but was halted by Luna, who had tugged on his robes to get his attention. “That ring Lian’s wearing--did you give that to her?”

Adam frowned. “No, I didn’t. Why?”

“It’s got a symbol on it that looks like the bite of a Northern Wyverian Yeti and I was curious as to its origins.” she shrugged. “I’ll just ask her when she’s done talking to Mr. Wagtail over there.”

“The bite of a what now?” Adam asked, but she was already drifting away. If it was something related to a magical creature, the ring was probably a gift from her great uncle.  _ But what if it’s not..? _ He moved through the crowd towards Lian and the musicians, who seemed to be finishing up anyways. Lian turned to him just as he drew near, her eyes sparkling. “Well?”

“That was so cool!” she whispered excitedly.

“I believe the phrase you’re looking for is ‘thank you’,” he said smoothly.

She rolled her eyes. “We’ll see.”

“So you just met the lead singer of  _ The Weird Sisters, _ can I tell you that you look beautiful now?” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

Lian blinked stoically at him. “No. I’ll say it one more time, Adam, I didn’t dress up for you. I don’t want your compliments so whatever is going through your head, keep it to yourself.”

“Only if you tell me why,” he said stubbornly. 

“I don’t need a boyfriend, so please stop trying to be!”

“If I can’t tell you how nice you look, why can someone else give you a gift and don’t say it was from Astoria!” Lian looked affronted for only a second before she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and dragged him to a darker corner of the office. “Um, Lian?”

“Shut up, and listen!” She sighed, brushed a stray strand out of her face and looked up at him in determination. “You have to stop trying for me, okay? I can’t give you what you want, and you spouting lines unceasingly isn’t cute, it’s exhausting, and boring. I get that you’re a werewolf, and I get that you’ve got this whole system that makes perfect sense  _ to you, _ and your pack, which I am not a part of, so stop acting like it! Don’t-” she shoved her finger in his face as he went to speak. “-interrupt me! I need space! I have so much I need to do and not a lot of time to do it in and none of it involves having a stupid relationship!”

“Lian,” Adam cleared his throat, attempting to make her realize what was wrong with their situation.

“What!” He pointed at the ceiling decoration, and she glanced up with another sigh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” The funny thing about mistletoe in the wizarding world. . .it was a bit more demanding than the lame kind that didn’t do anything but grow and die in the no-maj world.

“So, did you want me to stop chasing you right away or in a minute?”

* * *

 

He did not walk Lian back to her common room. She left immediately after she confiscated Felix Felicis, and she was back to not looking him in the eye. Sure, it hurt now, but the wolf was going to wake up in two weeks, and he was not looking forward to it’s whining. He could either stay and watch Hermione run from a seventh year while Slughorn slurred over Harry’s success in potions; or he could return to the Hufflepuff common room. Or option number three, he could go for a walk.

Well aware that he wouldn’t be terribly missed, he left Slughorn’s office and picked a direction at random. 

He happened upon a secret passageway on accident, climbed the spiral staircase and paus ed when he heard voices. 

“Should we wait until tomorrow?” the first voice said. 

“I’m not putting it off another minute. We’re doing this now.” The second voice sounded bitter to Adam’s ears. 

“You said you weren’t sure you could remember the spell!”

“I lied. It happens when I’m angry-you know this. She wouldn’t have left if I’d been honest.” 

Adam related to the second voice so much in that moment, he wondered if his deep thoughts were just being amplified by the hidden staircase. However, the next bout of words quickly silenced that notion. 

“Lying to Kowalski? What’s next? Betrayal?”

“Stuff it. Are you coming or not?”

“Like you would last three seconds without me.”

Adam then heard a soft pop, and nothing more. 


	10. What We Did Last Summer

_ July 16th, 1996 - Manhattan, NY _

 

“What do you mean, ‘she’s at work’?” said the blond incredulously.

“I mean exactly what it sounds like--people our age get jobs to earn money so they can pay to go to expensive international schools that there was a slightly illegal scholarship for but was dissolved at the conclusion of last year.” The teenage boy took a huge breath before adding, “Who are you guys again?”

“I’m Theodore Nott, and this irritable  halfwit is Draco,” said the taller of the two. Jake eyed them apprehensively; they’d shown up on his doorstep about ten minutes previously and out of fear that the dark one would melt, or the pale one would burn to a crisp, he’d invited them inside against his better judgement. Both of them stood awkwardly in the living room, apparently afraid to make themselves comfortable, and Jake had the distinct impression they were judging his dress choice. 

“When will Kowalski get off ‘work’?” The Draco guy asked, spitting the word ‘work’ like it was going to give him cancer. 

“Well one Kowalski got off work around six, while the other Kowalski gets off work around seven, and then the only other working Kowalski of the house gets off at ten. You’re gonna have to be specific, there.” Jake replied pedantically.

“Your sister, Lian, when will she be back?” The Theo guy clarified. Jake had seen him once from afar seven months ago, but hadn’t given him much thought at the time. 

“Ten. She won’t finish her assistant teaching job until then.”

“Teaching?” Theo repeated. “Teaching what?”

“Dance,” he answered shrugging. “You’re welcome to hang out until she gets back--I’m certain our folks won’t mind, they almost never do.”

The guys exchanged a silent look, but before they could reject the offer, Jake’s little sister skidded into the room. “JJ! Joey just called and said he saw John Lurie at his cousins pizza sha-a-” she broke off, her twelve year old eyes examining the guests standing in the living room. Eventually sounds stopping falling out of her open mouth, but her jaw remained loose and her eyes exaggeratedly wide. 

“Phi,” Jake snapped his fingers at her until she came back to earth. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

She snapped out of her stupor and grinned, completely without shame. “Hi! I’m Seraphina. . .did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

Jake recoiled slightly. His baby sister had only been at school for a year and already she was boy crazy.  _ Older  _ boy crazy. He’d been cringing for the last month and she still wouldn’t stop. The only thing that made it better was when the Theo guy muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “...crawled outta hell more like…”

“What?” Phi asked, seeing his lips move but not hearing actual words, thank Merlin.

Suddenly, the fireplace surged to life, making three out of the four people in the room jump in surprise. Jake, on the other hand, felt relieved.  _ Reinforcements. _ “Mom’s home.”

Amaya Strother-Kowalski stepped gracefully out of the flames, and took stock of the living room immediately. Jake waved, while the Brits weren’t sure what to do or what the culture called for. It was hilarious. 

In the end, the Theo guy moved forward with his hand extended to shake hers. “Mrs. K-”

She beamed and then slapped his hand away. “Call me Amaya.” she insisted, before pulling him into a hug. “It’s nice to see you again, Theodore!” She moved towards the Draco guy, still smiling. “Who’s your friend?”

Jake’s mother stood at five foot five, and she still managed to intimidate the blond Brit with her wide smile. Jake always thought that if Jules hadn’t turned out so tall and her hair had gone darker she would’ve been a mini-mom. “D-Draco--my name is Draco M-Malfoy.”

“Good to meet you, Draco,” Amaya hugged him too. Her motherly instinct didn’t stop with her own children, Jake had witnessed her hug each of Jules’ friends, and “enemies”. Like that werewolf who’d been stalking his sister since Jake’s fourth year. That had been a neat day. 

He watched his mother herd them into the kitchen, talking about how gaunt they all looked. “When was the last time you boys had a decent meal? My husband’s bringing dinner home tonight, it’s Take-Out Tuesday, and if I call him now—”

 

Jules arrived home ten minutes after the hour, and by then Phi had introduced the VHS collection to the purists from England. She’d already made them watch  _ A New Hope, _ and was seconds away from  _ The Empire Strikes Back _ when their older sister came through the front door and immediately marched upstairs. She had her Walkman on high so Jake didn’t bother trying for her attention, but that didn’t stop her foreign allies from trying. Abandoning Phi to the sci-fi, Theo and Draco followed after Jules.

They stayed for quite a while, finally leaving around midnight. They came back every night around ten, and then just talked with Jules for a few hours, always coming and leaving with the same, serious expressions. 

Jake asked her about it on a Sunday while they made breakfast: who were they really, and what did they want with his take-no-prisoners sister? Jules tried to smile and brush off his question like it was no big deal, but he knew better. She was different since she’d come home from Pigpimples—more than just her fake arm. The guys-the new ones-they were unlike any guy she’d ever befriended before. Draco didn’t know what a toaster was. Theodore kept asking how many people lived in the television. Both of them wore stupidly long sleeves in the New York heat, and at some point it wasn’t to protect themselves from a sunburn. 

“I trust them,” Jules said. “Both of them. Completely.”

“I don’t,” Jake had replied.

* * *

_ July 30th, 1996 - Fairbanks, AK _

 

Every time a letter was delivered, the owl, eagle or raven never liked to stay very long. Titan couldn’t remember the last time they’d actually paid for the newspaper. This morning’s mail was delivered by a seahawk, who gave her one look and made a U-turn, dropping the letters unceremoniously upon the ground, where Titan scooped them up and dashed back inside the family house. She and her husband, Artie, normally lived in Montreal but decided to visit for Cas’s birthday. 

Inside, Alpha was serving bacon, sausage and eggs to an entire table full of pups, all golden eyed and bushy haired. With the full moon on the rise, tonight promised to be quite wild. Fortunately the protection spells their father had placed on and around the house were designed to keep them in, and innocent bystanders out.

Passing out the letters, Titan came upon one that was sealed with red wax, and a school crest. But not the American school; it was addressed to her younger brother. “Adam?” 

From where he was arguing with Nyx, Adam looked up, “What?”

Titan waved the fancy envelope at him. “This what you’ve been waiting for?” She then tossed it to him like a frisbee. Shep intercepted it mid-air and brought it to his nose. 

“What’s this? Getting letters from other schools now are we?” he said sanctimoniously. “Ilvermorny not good enough for you anymore?”

“Not since his lobster scuttled away,” sniggered Cas, who was a few years younger than Adam, and had barely started school. “He about failed every class last year-” he managed to add before he was given a wet-willy. 

Anthem gave him a sympathetic look. “That can be hard, you know, I nearly died when Logan graduated before I did.” Her husband looked up at the mention of his name, nodding over at Adam in confirmation, before turning back to his breakfast. Titan always thought that Anthem lucked out, mating with another werewolf. She loved Artie, she never doubted that they were meant for one another, but on nights like tonight--she would be out chasing her tail and he would be inside, wand out, praying that the Wolfsbane potion wouldn’t fail again.

“Give it, Shep!” Adam lunged for his letter, which was thrown to Leo, which was passed to Nani, which was stolen by Blitz, which was thrown to Chevy, which was taken by River before Carl finally took pity on Adam and handed it over. He seized it and left the room to read it, which was futile because seconds later he was marched back in by their patriarch himself. 

“Go on then son, read it aloud.” said Hawthorn Quince. “Good news for you is good news for us all.”

The pack watched Adam carefully as he removed the parchment, and Titan spotted beautifully detailed ink scribed across it before Adam brandished it and began to read clearly.

_ “Dear Mr. Quince, _

_ We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. _

_ Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st.  _

_ Yours sincerely, _

_ Minerva McGonagall” _

He looked up with wide, wolfish eyes. Titan recognized that hunger, she’d felt the same way when her wolf had chosen Artie, course she hadn’t found him until after she’d left Ilvermorny. She thought she was doomed to be a lone wolf, never having the chance to find a mate, not unlike their brother, Gunner. His story was tragic, having been the first of their family to be rejected by his mate. She’d already fallen in love with a painter, and though Gunner tried everything, (even going so far as to using Polyjuice Potion to disguise himself as the enemy,) she rejected him. 

Now, as Adam struggled to win over his witch, they watched apprehensively, hoping and praying that it wouldn’t happen again. Titan had seen her only once, when she visited Ilvermorny looking for a job. Adam hadn’t needed to point her out, Titan had been able to pick her out by scent marker. She hadn’t appeared too impressive at first, but then she’d seen her smile. It was a wicked look, full of mischief and fire. She would be challenging for Adam, in all the best ways, Titan had thought. 

But then, Adam had revealed that she’d run away to Hogwarts. It was Chevy’s idea, (Shep’s mate,) to go after her. Anthem and her husband Logan believed it to be a longshot, while Nyx laughed at the idea of a born wolf in London, until Carl explained to her that Hogwarts wasn’t actually in England. It was Alpha who declared that it was a sound idea, though she hated the idea of her pup going so far away from the pack. At least at Ilvermorny, he and Cas had kept each other sane during the full moon. 

Adam still had hope though, because she’d just relocated, not actually turned him down. So long as she kept the door open, he wouldn’t be condemned the way Gunner had. Titan wondered how much about his situation had been explained to her, as she watched their parents fuss over Adam being accepted to the British magical school. Sometimes that helped. Sometimes it didn’t. With this ‘Lian’, she couldn’t be sure. 

_ She already fits into the family. _ She thought with a wry smile.  _ Everyone gets a nickname…’cept Logan, but where do you go with Logan?  _

There was Shepherd and Siobhan; Shep and Chevy. Samantha and Logan; Anthem. Titania and Arthur; Titan and Artie. Jonathan; Gunner. Veronica and Carlos; Nyx and Carl. Fitzgerald and Nadia; Blitz and Nani. Kristopher, Leonard, and Caspian; River, Leo, and Cas. Brought to you by Winnifred and Hawthorn Quince.

_ Adam and Lian... _ Titan mused.  _ Here’s hoping for the best. _

 

* * *

_ August 1st 1976 - London, England _

 

There was a knock on his bedroom door, and it opened before he could shout at whoever was on the other side. “I just heard. You alright?”

The boy refrained from chucking a pillow at his cousin’s head. It wasn’t his fault he was all battered and bruised, not directly, anyway. “Fan-effing-tastic.” Sirius growled in reply. “I’m this close to blowing that banshee to smithereens!” he held up his index finger and thumb a hairsbreadth away from one another. His cousin shrugged, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. 

“No one could blame you. . .’cept perhaps Kreacher, but who asked him, right? But do you really want to be branded a murderer over that horrible woman?”

“You’ve seen the stuffed heads on the wall, it’s not like anyone would be surprised that another Black family turned on itself.” Sirius sneered, running a hand through his hair. 

His cousin was quiet for a time, before finally saying the words that would bring some solace to his dark world. “What is it James always says? Fight fire with fire, but never sink to their level?” 

Sirius smirked slightly. “Yeah...some old tosh like that…”

“Why does he say that?” his cousin asked, head cocked to the side.

He sighed. “Because if we want to beat them, we have to be better than them...but just once I’d love to win a fight with her.”

“Maybe you will, one day,” came the reply. “But not this day...it might be best if you didn’t stay here anymore, though. You can come stay with Dad and me, if you like.”

Sirius perked up, before reality set in. “She’d find me and drag me back here, probably leave me worse off than today...but you’re right. I need to get out now, before they try and induct me again.” He gave his cousin a worried look. “How are they treating you? Have they tried, you know, marking you..?”

“They want to...I can tell without them having to say a word...but Dad won’t let them...not unless it’s something I want.” Sirius released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in. “Suffice to say, that doesn’t mean old Burgie’s gonna stop trying. She had me meet the Lestrange brothers the other day--charming. Quite charming.” Sirius barked out a laughter at the sarcastic tone. 

“You could come with me...get out from under their reign.” he offered sincerely. 

“I will one day. . .but Dad needs me. I can’t just leave him with stuffy pricks like your mum to keep him company.”

“You’re not wrong,” Sirius sighed heavily, before getting to his feet to shove his things away into his trunk. His cousin watched him from the bed, sharp eyes taking in everything.

“Where will you go?”

“Probably best if I don’t tell you,” he grunted. “My dear mother will bring hell upon you if she finds out you were involved. I’ll see you in a month’s time anyway, won’t I?”

“Pray to Merlin and Godric that she doesn’t kill me out of spite first, then yeah.”

Sirius paused, stowing his wand in his back pocket. “You sure you don’t want to come?”

“Positive. Someone’s got to look out for Reg.” Watching Sirius hesitate further, his cousin added, “I’ve always known how to handle Aunt Burg. It’s one of my many talents; don’t worry about me.” He waited further still. “Sirius. Go!”

Sirius jumped into action, foregoing the pretense of following the underage magic rule and packed his trunk in a jiffy. Another wave and he vanished the whole thing, likely to his destination. “See you in a month.”


	11. Rivalries Don't Die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January 2nd, 1997

Remus found his office exactly as he left it, not that he was surprised. New Years Eve had involved Tonks and Sirius describing in detail how a certain, greasy, bitter someone could have broken the charm on his door and smashed his tanks, burned his books and torn parchment by the scroll. He blamed the visage predominantly on the amount of drink they’d both consumed that evening--likely a family trait, though they’d rather quit cold turkey than acknowledge it. 

His holiday had been alright; surrounded by members of the order, and old friends. Molly had invited them all to Christmas at the Burrow, which had been a nice change of scenery. (Especially after he and Sirius had spent Christmas Eve running wild.) It would never be the same as it had been at school; his best friends becoming Animagi, running through the forest with him, keeping him sane through the full moon. All they could do now was hold on to their memories.  _ Except Peter _ , Remus thought bitterly.  _ He isn’t Pack. _

That notion made him wonder about young Mr. Quince. Remus hadn’t attempted to meet with him regularly, like Dumbledore had instigated, but he had watched over him from afar. And they always came across each other on the full moon. His wolf form was larger than Remus thought possible, but he still (somehow) managed to appear to Remus as nothing more than a rambunctious pup. Maybe it was the seniority he possessed over the other werewolf, but every time they came across each other on those nights, Mr. Quince’s defiant face would not leave Remus’s mind's’ eye. “ _ You were bitten. I was born. _ ”

The idea that there were werewolves in America that actually dared to breed, (as he’d never heard of such a thing anywhere in the British Isles,) made his head spin. It defied everything he’d ever deduced about his kind, and also filled him with more questions then answers. How far back did his line extended? Which parent carried the werewolf gene or was it both of them? Was he an only child or had he been born in a litter? 

He didn’t know. But he really wanted to.

Harry had posed an intriguing question to him over the break. He had asked whether James had ever called himself the  _ Half-Blood Prince _ . Not in so many words, but Remus could read between the lines. He wondered about the identity briefly, but put it out of his mind. 

He, along with Tonks and Sirius, had spent most of the break reconstructing Black Manor from the inside. (Sirius might have snapped some time after June and destroyed nearly half of the building in one spell; they’d never given Moody a straight answer.) It was much more friendly now, than it had been last year. Kreacher had stolen Walburga’s portrait and taken it down to his nest, and quite frankly they were happy to let him take her. Remus had only just convinced Sirius to not kill Kreacher for his betrayal, though he wasn’t convinced his old friend wouldn’t try while he was gone. Tonks would keep an eye on him...hopefully.

* * *

 

He was just organizing his notes for his fourth year lessons when there was a knock at his office door. 

“Come in,” he called, reaching for a quill to fix an error in his writing. 

The door gave way to none other than Snape. If it were possible, Remus thought he looked worse with the holiday glow.

“Good afternoon, Severus,” said Remus calmly. 

“I see you did not take heed of my warning delivered to you before the end of last term,” Snape said coldly.

“I suppose I didn’t see it as much of a warning, and more of an opinion.” replied Remus placidly. 

“Hogwarts has no need for two defense teachers; you’re only here because Dumbledore took pity on you.”

A voice in Remus’s head that sounded very much like James said,  _ Hark, who’s talking? That’s exactly why you’re here you slimy git.  _ “Perhaps. But at the very least, you needn’t bother teaching with younger and less trained children who would be liable to complain about your rather extreme teaching style.” His inner James grinned proudly.  _ Better. Now tell him he’s an overgrown bat.  _

“Indeed, it is much better for them to be coddled and sheltered until their OWL year where they’re forced to face reality,” sneered Snape. 

“Did you want something, Severus?” Remus asked patiently. He hoped that the man had a point to intruding upon his office, other than a petty exchange.

“As a matter of fact,” he began. “I was hoping you might shed light upon the tamperings with the defenses around the Room of Requirement.”

“I beg your pardon?” Remus frowned at him, certain he misheard. “The what?”

“You’re not familiar with it? It’s been in regular use since October of ‘95,” Snape replied disdainfully. “This year in particular, someone inside seems to be attempting repeated travel in and out of the castle. I’m sure you can imagine the problems that could follow experiments of that kind.”

“What are you saying?” Remus asked. “Someone’s trying to open a new way in and out of the castle?”

“Precisely. And as co-teachers of the subject,” Snape hissed. “The headmaster believes it to be an opportunity for us to riddle out who is behind it. Activity in the room ceased during the holidays, though I doubt it was due to my diligent watch--the perpetrator had left the castle, but as they all come back, you must keep an eye out for any suspicious behavior. Anything.”

“You thought it was Sirius, didn’t you.” He stated dryly.

“It’s not entirely out of his character, now is it.” Snape snapped.

* * *

 

Classes resumed as normally as expected, and all the while Remus didn’t overly concern himself with Severus’s words. He may have been more vigilant with his security sweeps of the castle, but it was difficult to believe that someone within the castle was going to damage the defenses and security of the school using a room that didn’t exist half of the time. On one of his shifts he decided to take a detour down the seventh floor.

In all their years marauding about, he couldn’t remember ever finding a room that could come and go as needed. He couldn’t say that James or Sirius would have had much use for a room that...well, perhaps he should ask Sirius about it before he assumed. Still, being here in the castle, as it had during the year he’d taught before, he found himself yearning for the days of his youth. He could practically imagine what they would say about his everyday challenges. Most often when he came across Severus, though.

As he strolled the length of the seventh floor, glancing up at the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, he stepped on something small. Crouching to pick it up, he inspected the ring  curiously, trying to remember what he learned about the engraved rune all those years ago in school. At its head, rather than a jewel, was set a capital ‘M’, that somewhat resembled the rune for  _ Ehwaz _ . It looked old, the type of trinket that would be passed down through generations, but it still gleamed in the candlelight, indicating that until it had been lost, it had been cleaned and well kept. 

While he debated on what to do with it, a voice in his mind that sounded a bit like Lily, shared a thought,  _ Hold onto it for now. You never know. It might be a clue to something bigger. _

_ Nah. Betcha it belongs to one of those pure-blood kids.  _ James voice argued back.

_ Idiot. You’re pure-blood. _

_ Technically. But I don’t believe that blood makes me better than others. Moony, I dare you to throw it off the staircase and see where it lands! _

_ James! _

“Excuse me?” He blinked and looked around at the student standing nearby, recognizing Draco Malfoy. The young man stood rigid as he recognized Remus, his expression inscrutable. “That doesn’t belong to you,  _ sir _ ,” he said, nodding at the ring in Remus’ hand.

_ Told you, _ James whispered.

“Indeed not, Mr. Malfoy,” he replied calmly.  “I’ll wager you know to whom it does?” He then deposited it in Draco’s care. “I’m sure they’ve missed it by now.”

Draco pocketed the ring, rather than placing it on his finger like Remus had expected him to. Surely, the ‘M’ had stood for Malfoy? He gave Remus a jerky sort of nod before attempting to leave--but Remus wasn’t done yet. 

“Mr. Malfoy, what are you doing so far away from your common room tonight?” It was a fair question, though not yet curfew, it was a seemingly random place to find a Slytherin student...unless…

“I was looking for someone but got turned around by the infernal staircase.” Malfoy’s reply was as terse as possible. 

“Yes I quite hate it when I’m redirected to a dead-end corridor at this hour,” sighed Remus. “Better get along back to your common room, then.”

Draco Malfoy gave him a quick look, one that Remus recognized from his many nights as a Prefect. The slightly stressed, but mainly suspicious gaze of inquiry-‘Are you going to take away points/assign detention?’ When he gave no indication of speaking further, the young man gave his jerky, awkward nod once more. “Yes sir…”

Remus watched him head back up the corridor, his mind swirling. Was that the same boy, who at age thirteen had feigned an arm injury for half a year? The boy who ridiculed Hermione until she cried, who insulted everything about the Weasleys and bullied anyone in his way? Who was at the head of Snapes brigade to spread the fact that he, Remus, was a werewolf and thus led to his resignation. 

Now he, though still wary around Remus, had addressed him not once, but twice as ‘sir’, and not even sarcastically. He had every chance to say something crude or demeaning about werewolves or something of that nature.

He sighed before slowly making his own way up the corridor. What changed?

From within his heart, Lily grinned slyly.  _ A girl _ . 

James would scoff there.  _ Puh-lease. Well… I mean maybe. Would have to be an extraordinary girl, though.  _

Remus nodded to himself.  _ Speaking of...I still need to have a conversation with young Ms. Kowalski… _

Lily would purse her lips in doubt.  _ Sirius said she doesn’t know anything.  _

James would get that wicked look on his face.  _ You can get a few answers without saying a word...like the old days.  _

_ You’re not setting the ceiling on fire! _ Lily would snap. 

_ Easy love, that was Padfoots idea! No I was thinking more of a sleight of hand sort of arrangement.  _ James would say, still grinning wickedly. 

Shaking his head, smiling ruefully, Remus continued his route. 


	12. A Splinch to Scratch

Lian never thought she’d be so grateful to see Charms homework. The Christmas holiday had come and gone, and as much as she loved watching Uncle Anatoly butcher No-Maj and Wizarding carols with the help of his turp, she was relieved to see the inside of the castle once more. There was even a welcome announcement waiting for her on the Slytherin bulletin board in the common room. 

APPARITION LESSONS:

_ If you are seventeen years of age, or will turn seventeen on or before the 31st of August next, you are eligible for a twelve-week course of Apparition Lessons from a Ministry of Magic Apparition instructor. Please sign below if you would like to participate. Cost: 12 Galleons. _

She snatched a quill and scribbled her name down immediately. Really she should’ve learned to apparate by now, but she’d been a bit sidetracked for the past few months. Years, really. Christmas hadn’t been much of a break for her, she’d kept herself busy. Any moment she let herself stop and reflect, she felt like she was falling apart. 

Phi had risen to the top at school… the top of the watchlist. She’d received more detentions than she had classes, taking the teachers and literally everyone else by storm. Jake, who had been preparing to chase boys away from her, instead had to chase Phi away from trouble. 

She was adapting to her Legilimency very differently than Lian had at her age. On some level, she believed it was because Phi was not as curious about what she could gain from her gift, but what she could  _ do  _ with it. 

She wasn’t as nosy and inquisitive as Lian had been, who, as soon as she understood she what Legilimency was, had absorbed as much knowledge as she could. It was accidental in the beginning. She gathered life experiences from the adults in her life when she was eight. On some level, it made her skip a regular childhood, and acting immature seemed petty, though at her age it was expected, even wanted. She’d felt the depth of love before she’d ever found someone who could stir it within her. She’d borne the weight of sorrow and grief without witnessing its cause. 

She’d grown up way too fast. . .

Classes started up and she was grateful for the distractions of homework. A few weeks into January and she could forget everything that was bearing down upon her. She was determined to enjoy what time she had left...

* * *

 

Potions class didn’t change much, unfortunately. Harry had quickly become the top of the class, though how nobody could be certain. Hermione and Adam volleyed for second place, or so it appeared. For example, on this particular day,  Slughorn was calling for silence from the front of the room. “Settle down, settle down, please! Quickly, now, lots of work to get through this afternoon! Golpalott’s Third Law. . .who can tell me-?  But, Mr. Quince can, of course!”

Adam lowered his hand, smiling pleasantly at Hermione as he said, “ Golpalott’s Third Law states that the antidote for a blended poison will be equal to more than the sum of the antidotes for each of the separate components.”

“Precisely!” beamed Slughorn. “Ten points for Hufflepuff! Now, if we accept Golpalott’s Third Law as true. . .”

Lian  was going to have to take Slughorn’s word for it that Golpalott’s Third Law was true, because she had  not paid attention to what was being said. She hadn’t seen nor spoken to Adam since the party. She didn’t know what she expected--for all the time he spent chasing her, she was dreading the long looks across the classrooms, the ones that didn’t come. He was cheerfully paying attention to Slughorn’s lecture, along with Hermione, while the rest of class looked completely lost. 

At her side, Theo nudged her ribs. “Are you getting any of this?” When she shrugged and shook her head, he groaned softly. “Wonderful.”

“. . .which means, of course, that assuming we have achieved correct identification of the potion’s ingredients by Scarpin’s Revelaspell, our primary aim is not the relatively simple one of selecting antidotes to those ingredients in and of themselves, but to find that added component that will, by an almost alchemical process, transform those disparate elements-”

Lian had managed to keep a lid on her Legilimency, but in that moment she was so tempted to pierce Slughorn’s mind and dissect the point of his endless droning.  _ No, don’t! You’ll probably pick up his love for elf-made wine or something equally irksome and useless. _

“. . .and so,” finished Slughorn, “I want each of you to come and take one of these phials from my desk. You are to create an antidote for the poison within it before the end of the lesson. Good luck, and don’t forget your protective gloves!”

Hermione almost ran over Lian in her attempts to get to Slughorn’s desk first. She was beat by Adam, who had a longer reach. By the time the normal potion-makers in the making had selected a vial and returned to their cauldron’s, Big Nerd and Little Lioness Nerd had already set to work.

“Can we lock them in the supply closet?” Blaise hissed through his teeth as he glared over at the Gryffinpuff combo. 

“They’d probably finish faster if we did,” said Draco, scowling over his cauldron at the pair. Lian had rejoined them at the desk in front, but Hermione had claimed her old seat beside Adam. She couldn’t be sure, but Lian guessed she was avoiding Ron and Harry. Again. 

“I didn’t say it had to be the potion’s supply closet. Filch has a cleaning supply down the hall,” Blaise sniffed his poison before tipping it into his cauldron. “What the devil kind of poison smells like vanilla?”

Lian leaned across the desk to check and then double check his claim. “The most effective kind--that smells amazing.” Theo grabbed her shoulder and pushed her back in her seat.

They worked in relative silence--Blaise would growl his frustration out in Italian, which Lian found a bit distracting yet comforting. 

Too soon, Slughorn called for them to stop.  Slowly, he moved around the room, examining the various antidotes. Nobody had finished the task, although Hermione and Adam kept trying to cram a few more ingredients into their bottles before Slughorn reached them.  When he reached Harry however, Slughorn burst out laughing. Lian and the rest turned to get a good look at the shriveled stone Harry held in his palm. 

“You’ve got nerve, boy!” he boomed, taking the bezoar and holding it up so that the class could see it. “Oh, you’re like your mother. Well, I can’t fault you. . . A bezoar would certainly act as an antidote to all these potions!”

Hermione, who was sweaty-faced and had soot on her nose, looked livid. Her half-finished antidote, comprising fifty-two ingredients, including a chunk of her own hair, bubbled sluggishly behind Slughorn, who had eyes for nobody but Harry. “And you thought of a bezoar all by yourself, did you, Harry?” she asked through gritted teeth.

Lian thought that was an interesting question to pose, and wanted to explore the train of reasoning behind it, but Slughorn carried on in singing Harry’s praises.  Before anyone could express their fury that Harry had come top of the class by not doing any work, however, the bell rang. “Time to pack up!” said Slughorn. “Ten points to Gryffindor for sheer cheek!” Still chuckling, he waddled back to his desk at the front of the classroom.

“He’s worse than a state trooper,” Lian grumbled as she vanished her antidote and put away the ingredients she’d used. 

“How d’you mean?” asked Theo, not understanding the reference.

“If you can make them laugh, they won’t fault you for whatever you did wrong.” she replied vaguely, not really wanting to explain the point of a state trooper at the moment.

She was rather good at potions, or so her last two professors had always said. Given that one of those potioneers was Professor Snape, she felt confident in the truth of that statement. 

Slughorn didn’t praise skill, he praised his favorites. Draco was excellent at potions but the way Slughorn treated his prowess, you’d think he was worse than Neville. His praise for Adam and Hermione was founded--but Lian knew all-too-well that Harry wasn’t this good at potions. She wondered if he really had taken remedial potions, before remembering her past trysts into his mind. He loved Potions about as much as he loved Professor Bins. Which could only mean that he was succeeding nowadays because he was tricking the system.

She marched to Slughorn’s desk, aware that Harry was the only other occupant in the room, taking his sweet time packing his empty, unused cauldron away. Slughorn looked up, pleasantly at first but he recoiled slightly when he spotted her expression. “What can I do for you, Miss...er…” 

“Sir, I wanted to ask you something,” she said bossily, rushing along before he could reply. “Are you aware that you have thirteen students in your sixth year class, not just three?”

“I am indeed,” Slughorn replied, raising an eyebrow at her. “And I don’t much care for your tone, m’dear.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Lian pulled back on the anger, but continued to say what she had in mind. “I’m afraid I don’t much care for your tunnel vision. Your bias. Your bigotry. I don’t care that you’re returning from retirement, a real educator shouldn’t be so soft-handed towards those that have done nothing worth recognition within the confines of class!”  _ Sal-a-zar I sound like my mother! No, it’s worse than that. . . I sound like Mrs. Malfoy. _

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room as Slughorn gazed up at her. She could hear Harry breathing through his mouth as he watched the exchange. At length, he took out a quill and wrote several words across a bit of parchment, folded and sealed it, before handing it to her. “Please deliver this to your Head of House. And the next time you’re in my class, kindly refrain from speaking to me in such a disrespectful way.”

Biting back the response that jumped to her lips, Lian took the note and stormed out of the classroom.

* * *

 

“You did  _ what _ ?” Daphne demanded, her mouth agape in a perfectly shocked expression. “Who taught you manners? A lady does not-”

“Someone had to say it!” Astoria interrupted. “You should see him in my class, he won’t shut up about Scamander, and he’s not even that good!” 

“I wish you’d have said you were going to do that,” said Draco. “I’d have stuck around to watch.” 

“What did Snape say?” Theo asked, watching Lian carefully.

They were walking to the library, as the common room was unbearably loud. (A couple of seventh years decided they didn’t care about their NEWTs and had engaged nearly the entire host of Slytherin in a game of Dare or Lie.) As they left the dungeons, Lian had finally admitted to her group what she’d done after Potions class a few days ago, and Blaise was too busy laughing to comment.

In response to Theo’s question, Lian smirked. “Not a thing. I found him in his office, said I had a message for him from Slughorn: he took the note and flicked it into the fireplace.” She shrugged at their astonished and disbelieving expressions. “I suppose there’s a cruel twist about how I got in trouble for calling out Slughorn’s favoritism, when Snape does the same thing, but in less amounts. I mean,” she spread her hands, “he treats every other house equally. He doesn’t dote on one student specifically.”

“Meanwhile, Slughorn just focuses on Potter, who wouldn’t know how to brew an antidote if-” Draco began snidely, but broke off as they reached the library. The librarian, Madam Pince, leered at the six of them as they walked by her desk. Lian spotted a familiar bush of brown hair disappearing into the restricted section, and was seized by a maddened curiosity to find out what and why. She was not the only one who saw Hermione, as she settled at their table, she noticed Draco eying the spot where the Lioness had been. A moment later and he was pulling out his textbooks and homework. 

Deciding she didn’t want to wait until later, she said, “J'ai été mordu par un vampire le jour du Nouvel An.” 

As expected, Draco looked up sharply, but she was also given curious looks from the Greengrass sisters.  _ Darn it.  _ Theo and Blaise looked around, but their expressions were more confused than startled _. _ Astoria coughed. “Excusez-moi?”

“Je me demandais juste,” she said quickly, turning back to her Astronomy.

“Vous avez été mordu par un vampire!?” Daphne hissed.

“ Hvorfor snakker de om vampyrer?” asked Theo under his breath.

“Sto cercando di lavorare!” Blaise snapped. 

“Alright, enough!” Lian said, keeping her voice low so as not to attract the attention or wrath of Madam Pince. “I know I started this--now I’m finishing it.”  _ Stupid pure-bloods with their stupid tutoring. _

“...so, there was no vampire?” Daphne whispered after a pause. Grinning, Lian shook her head no. They worked in uninterrupted silence for nearly a half hour before she noticed that Draco had left to retrieve a book and never returned. At first, the realization didn’t bother her. But then his absence started to gnaw on her conscious, and within moments she found herself wandering the vast library, peering through the shelves for a hint of him. 

Predictably, he’d snuck into the restricted section. He jumped about a foot in the air when Lian gifted him with a wet-willy. “ _ Sweet Salazar _ -! what was that?” he rubbed furiously at his ear. 

“It’s probably better that you don’t know,” she whispered in reply. “Whatcha doin?”

“I’m looking for a book on dementors,” he muttered, rifling through the shelves at random. One of the books sneezed when he disturbed the dust around it, and another book with hieroglyphics written on the spine shuddered ominously. 

Lian knew he was lying, but decided to play along anyway. “Dementors? That’s a pretty heavy topic. . .what did you want to know?”

“I know there’s a calm now, but. . .it won’t last forever. And when it breaks, there’ll be a lot more of those demons around and I’ve been thinking about how I don’t know how to defend myself. . .” he shrugged. 

_ Smooth. I almost believe that’s what you’re doing over here. _ “Valid thought. But you won’t find a spell like that in these books.” She grabbed his wrist and pulled him away from the mysteriously forbidden shelves. They did spot Hermione, perusing a book entitled  _ Magick Moste Evile _ , but rather than stop and chat like she’d originally planned, Lian just got Draco back to their table. Just before they were in earshot of the others she turned to face him. “I know how to help with that, but you’re gonna need to give me some time.”

Draco scrutinized her. “How long?” 

“A week.”

“A day.”

“Three.”

“Deal.” He offered her his hand, and she grasped it firmly, enjoying the way he winced as her metal hand crushed his fleshy one. "That reminds me," he pulled his hand from hers before it caused real damage and reached into his inner pocket. When Lian saw the ring, her eyes grew as round as remembralls. "Lose something?"

She accepted it from him, replacing it on her index finger quickly, twisting it until the 'M' faced upwards. "Where'd you find it?"

"Outside of the room. See that you look after it this time," he muttered, before returning to the table and claiming his seat beside Blaise. Following after him, Lian was aware that Theo's concentration upon his textbook was far too intense to be real.

* * *

 

The snow melted around the school as February arrived, to be replaced by cold, dreary wetness. Purplish-gray clouds hung low over the castle and a constant fall of chilly rain made the lawns slippery and muddy. The upshot of this was that the sixth years’ first Apparition lesson, which was scheduled for Saturday morning to that no normal lessons would be missed, took place in the Great Hall instead of in the grounds. 

When they arrived in the Hall, they found that the tables had disappeared. Rain lashed against the high windows and the enchanted ceiling swirled darkly above them as they assembled in front of Professors McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, and Sprout - the Heads of Houses - and a small wizard who had to be the Apparition instructor from the Ministry. He was oddly colorless, with transparent eyelashes, wispy hair, and an insubstantial air, as though a single gust of wind might blow him away. Lian wondered whether constant disappearances and reappearances had somehow diminished his substance, or whether this frail build was ideal for anyone wishing to vanish.

“Good morning,” said the Ministry wizard, when all the students had arrived and the Heads of Houses had called for quiet. “My name is Wilkie Twycross and I shall be your Ministry Apparition instructor for the next twelve weeks. I hope to be able to prepare you for your Apparition Tests in this time. As you may know, it is usually impossible to Apparate or Disapparate within Hogwarts. The headmaster has lifted this enchantment, purely within the Great Hall, for one hour, so as to enable you to practice. May I emphasize that you will not be able to Apparate outside the walls of this Hall, and that you would be unwise to try.”

_ Yes, but what if I was in Hogsmeade and wanted to Apparate into the Great Hall?  _ Lian wondered, as people separated in order to make spaces of about five feet as Twycross instructed. The Slytherins instinctively moved toward the back of the Hall, while the Ravenclaws moved to the front, the Gryffindors and the Hufflepuffs staying somewhere in-between.

“Thank you,” said Twycross. “Now then. . .” He waved his wand. Old-fashioned wooden hoops instantly appeared on the floor in front of every student. “The important things to remember when Apparating are the three D’s!” said Twycross. “Destination, Determination, Deliberation! Step one: Fix your mind firmly upon the desired _destination_. In this case, the interior of your hoop. Kindly concentrate upon that destination now.”

Lian exchanged a glance with Theo, who looked doubtful about Twycross’s teaching abilities. She shrugged and looked at the hoop before her. She’d become rather good at blocking out distractions from her mind, and thank goodness. She focused on the hoop and nothing more.

“Step two: focus your  _ determination _ to occupy the visualized space! Let your yearning to enter it flood your mind to every particle of your body!”

_ Check. _

“Step three: and only when I give the command. . . Turn on the spot, feeling your way into nothingness, moving with  _ deliberation!  _ On my command, now . . .one-” Lian opened her eyes and glanced around. Other people looked appalled and panicked at being asked to Apparate immediately.  “-two-”  Quickly she shut her eyes and focused on her hoop and the three D’s again.  _ Destination, Determination and what now-?  _ “-THREE!”

Lian twisted on the spot immediately. She’d as good as taken a few lessons before but hadn’t actually gotten around to passing the test. When she was thirteen she scanned her aunt’s mind to figure out how to transmute ice into fire, but found out how to apparate instead. Still, she hadn’t been old enough to attempt it without getting arrested so she didn’t dare, but never forgot. 

She overbalanced and fell over, and she was not alone. The entire Hall was full of sixteen-seventeen year old wizards and witches looking completely ridiculous;  Neville had fallen flat on his back; Ernie had done a sweeping kind of pirouette move into his hoop and looked momentarily delighted, until he caught sight of Dean Thomas roaring with laughter at him . Draco had spun around on his heels, reminding Lian of a boyband move, while Theo hadn’t moved at all. Blaise had twisted, but he’d lost balance and danced several steps sideways until he tripped over Lian’s legs.

“Never mind, never mind,” said Twycross dryly, who did not seem to have expected anything better. “Adjust your hoops, please, and back to your original positions. . .”

The second attempt was no better than the first. The third was just as bad. Not until the fourth did anything exciting happen. There was a horrible screech of pain and everybody looked around, terrified, to see Susan Bones of Hufflepuff wobbling in her hoop with her left leg still standing five feet away where she had started.

They fixed her up, swiftly and without a moment to lose. Lian spotted Adam move through the crowd to comfort Susan who had begun to sob hysterically. He did the Canadian thing and pulled her into a hug, which was the opposite of the British thing. It was interesting for Lian to witness, as an American.

“Splinching, or the separation of random body parts,” said Wilkie Twycross dispassionately, “occurs when the mind is insufficiently  _ determined. _ You must concentrate continuously upon your  _ destination _ , and move, without haste, but with  _ deliberation. . . _ thus.”

And it began all over again. 

After a few more tries, Lian decided to stop holding back. She didn’t want the biggest moment of the evening to be Susan’s spectacular splinching. Around the eleventh attempt, she closed her eyes, focused on the hoop and turned on the spot.

A crushing sensation surrounded her entire body, and she felt like a hamster collapsing its spine to make it through a small gap in a wall. In the blink of an eye she found herself inside the ring, feeling lighter than she had felt in months. After a split second, it was revealed why.

Several feet away from where she stood, Theo waved a hand at her. The hand was silver, attached to a metal wrist and forearm--Lian had just splinched herself. Well, sort of.

Her ally moved across the distance between them, a small smile dancing on the corner of his mouth. “Need a hand?”

“Ha, ha. Give me that-” Lian lunged for it mid-speech, but he was too quick, hiding it behind his back. She tried again, maneuvering around him but he held it over her head. More than ever, she hated his height advantage.  _ Well, at least he’s not Adam, _  a small voice in her head reminded her.  _ You’d have to climb that boy like a tree.  _ “Theo!” He gave her a very odd look, which, given the span of their relationship, was saying something. Without further argument he returned her arm, watching her numbly as she re-attached it. When she could take his blank expression no longer, she snapped her fingers in his face. 

Shaking himself, he said, “You’ve never called me that before.”

“I what?” she stammered, frowning at him. “I’ve called you by name before.” But he continued to give her the odd look that she decided she didn’t like, and she realized that he was right. Out loud, she’d only referred to him as Nott. Come to think of it, she’d never said Draco’s name aloud either, even if she’d thought of him as Draco since last May. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” she said at last.  _ Not that he looks upset. Just weird. _

“No, of course not,” he mumbled, before he turned on the spot. It would’ve been really impressive if he’d apparated perfectly into his circle, but he tripped on his robes and fell over sideways. The nearest students snickered, but didn’t pay him much attention as he got to his feet. “You’re going to pretend that never happened.” he said brusquely. 

“And why would I do that?” she asked challengingly.

“Because if you tease me over this, we’re friends. If you’ve got my back, we’re still allies.”

Lian didn’t believe in guardian angels, but if they were real, she could almost hear hers laughing. “Alright then. Nothing to see here.”

* * *

 

She had one more task before the morning’s end. Once released from the dreadful, delinquent, and deplorable apparition lesson, she climbed the marble staircase and headed towards the teacher’s lounge. A single knock and it opened for her--whoever had last entered the room hadn’t done a good job of closing the door. Peering inside, she found her target and advanced over the threshold.

“Professor?”

“Ms. Kowalski?”

“I have something I needed to ask you,” she took a breath. “I was wondering if you could teach me how to perform the Patronus Charm.”


	13. Terrible Friends

The sigh of frustration awoke me, and I sat up quickly, my cheek making a weird noise as it peeled away from my Ancient Runes textbook. The library was dimly lit, with only a few candles illuminating the tall shelves and reflecting off the black windows through which I could see the waning moon. 

I couldn’t remember when I fell asleep, but one thing I did know for certain was that I was not alone here. The shuffling sounds from the next aisle told me as much. Moving as unobtrusively as I knew how, I rose to my feet and glided to the end of my row to peer around the section to identify the other occupant. 

_ If it’s that old librarian and Filch I’m going to puke, _ I vowed silently, before my eyes adjusted to the gloom and recognized the figure sitting alone and muttering incoherently. I hadn’t spoken to her much, not since last year, and even then only a few words. But something in my gut said I had to talk to her.  _ Assuming she’ll talk back. _

Not wanting to alarm her, I knocked softly on the shelf to alert her to my presence. She only jumped slightly and turned to squint at me. “Harry?” she asked at first, not recognizing me in the bad lighting. Or maybe she wouldn’t recognize me anyway. 

“No,” I replied, moving out and closer to the light she worked by. I then took notice of the towers of books all around her on the floor and tables and chairs. Not just any books either, books full of forbidden magic and records of the dark ages when muggles hunted wizarding kind. “Quite the selection of bedtime stories you’ve gathered, Granger.”

She blinked slowly, glanced at her surroundings and then back up at me once it clicked who I had to be. “Nott? What are you doing in here?”

“I fell asleep on my runes essay,” I rubbed at my eyes in an attempt to conceal a yawn. “What time is it?”

She glanced at her wrist watch. “It’s a little after ten.” She began putting away her private library of the dark arts in an attempt to pretend I hadn’t seen it in all it’s horror. I picked up  _ Necromancy for Neanderthals,  _ one eyebrow quirked up as I opened and skimmed through its contents. “Would you hand me that, please?”

“Only when you’re done explaining what in the world would possess you to study this stuff,” I answered, closing the book with a snap, and regretting it instantly as dust flew up my nose. I sneezed into my elbow, simultaneously holding the book out of her reach. She jumped up a few times, in an attempt to take it from me. Then she got smart and pulled her wand on me. “I wouldn’t do that, Madam Pince has a propensity to assign detentions when wands are used in her library.” 

She did this thing where she puffed out her cheeks, held it for ten seconds as her face turned bright pink, and released it slowly. “Fine. Sit.”

I bit back a comment about not being her dog, and sat patiently, the necromancy instruction manual held loosely in my hands. “Well?”

“Just so we’re clear, I don’t have to tell you anything. But you did fight on our side in June,” she stalled, also seeming to convince herself into telling me whatever she was doing. “And according to Ron you protected me after Dolohov attacked me. . .” she glanced at me seeking confirmation.

Was it warm suddenly? I wondered as I shrugged noncommittally. “It all happened so fast.”

“Hmm. Well, in anycase, perhaps you can help me. Have you any idea what a Horcrux is?” 

I’d heard that word before, but couldn’t pinpoint the context. “Why?”

Granger fidgeted with the hem of her skirt. “. . .I know your father was a supporter of Voldemort,”  _ Good start to any conversation, _ “. . .but that doesn’t mean you’ll turn out like him, does it?” 

“My father or the Dark Lord?” I asked bluntly. I’d been spending too much time around a certain American. She seemed to sense that also, as a small smile crept across her face.

“You know what I mean. You don’t support Voldemort?”

I understood her need for verbal confirmation. I’d required the same thing several times from Lian, and still did on occasion. For all Granger knew, I could be lying through my teeth, gaining their trust through the DA last year, and playing it safe until the Dark Lord gained his full power and ‘jump ship’. Then again, we’d be having a  _ very  _ different conversation if I was in short sleeves. 

“Voldemort. . .is the reason both of my parents are dead. I have as much a right as Potter to want him dead, if not more. Potter never knew his parents like I did. My mother was stolen from me when I was seven, and my father was killed before my very eyes, both times by madmen bound in service to  _ him _ .” I took a deep breath. “So I would say no, the Dark Lord does  _ not _ have my support.”

Granger looked slightly surprised at my honesty, but recovered quickly enough. “Well, if I can find out what a Horcrux is, I might have a clue as to how to defeat him.” She hesitated, and I recognized that she was steeling herself for what she was about to say. “Will you help me?”

I waited the appropriate amount of time to reply, not too soon or too late. “I can try, but aren’t you supposed to be the brightest witch in our year or something?”

Granger rolled her eyes. “Very few people believe that nowadays.”

“Not a fan of Quince?”

“Like you can talk!” she snapped. “He’s been here all of four months and he’s got every teacher wrapped around his fingers--and he’s a werewolf, and no one cares about that anymore--as they should and yet they still discriminate against Professor Lupin and it’s completely unfair! Who does that giant think he-” I heard the subtle rise in volume and before she could hit her stride I covered her mouth with  _ Necromancy for Neanderthals. _

“Clearly you’re stressed. But somehow I don’t think it’s all about Quince for you.” I said softly, encouraging her to calm down. She took the book and shoved it back to its place on the shelf. 

“You’re very observant,” she said at last.

“Can be.”

“You might’ve noticed that Harry and Ron are my best friends.”

“If I paid attention to Gryffindor drama, I’m sure it would’ve been clear.” I said, continuing to be as evasive as possible. I remembered thinking once in our third year that she was always alone if not with Potter and Weasley--mostly because it was around then I started seeing her in the elective courses, and she always kept to herself, as if she didn’t know how to interact with other people. 

I knew how to talk to people, I would just rather not. There was a difference, however similar we appeared on the surface.

She nodded once. “When we fight, Ron usually ignores me, and then Harry picks a side…” Her brown eyes caught mine for a moment before I looked away. “Have you ever fought with someone?”

_ Yes. In fact I’m mid-fight with Lian and Draco right now. But that’s been ongoing since September so it’s not really worth mentioning now, is it. _ “Sort of. My kind of warfare isn’t shouting loudly or expressing emotion. If I disagree with someone, I generally pull away until they start making sense again.”

She sniffed. “Really? I didn’t figure you for the non-confrontational one. How does that work out whenever you don’t get along with Lian?”

“Who says we fight?”

Granger gave a hollow laugh. “Have you  _ met _ Lian Kowalski? She hit Hogwarts like a blazing comet, and she never really stopped burning. Even when she apologizes it’s aggressive, like she hasn’t the time to wait for you to forgive her.”

_ Amen. _

I leaned back in my chair to look at her by the diminished light. This was an odd moment in time, for the both of us I assumed. Even when I eventually went to the DA meetings, I never spoke to anyone else much, and in the years before that, I believe I made a point of hardly talking to anyone in my own House, forget the rest of the school. Yet here we sat, as equals, chatting as though we’d been friends for years and not minutes. 

My heart gave pause as I realized that I’d just accepted Hermione Granger into my circle of friends. It was a very small circle to begin with, she might have to do something about her hair to fit properly. 

As I sat there lost in reflection, I noticed her lips were moving and she was gazing at me expectantly.  _ How long has she been talking? _

“Sorry, what?” I asked, but then felt a hand on the collar of my shirt before someone hauled me up and out of my seat. “Hey-!”

“What are the two of you still doing in here?!” said Madam Pince shrilly in my ear, causing me to wince. “The library is closed! Out! Get out!”

She literally chased us away from her beloved tomes, slamming the door behind us and locking it loudly. Hermione gaped at it for a few seconds, before rounding on me all full of indignance. “She’s only chased me out of there once before and it wasn’t my fault then either! She’s going to start thinking I’ve got terrible friends-” she broke off, and I knew then that she’d accepted me just as I had her.

I shrugged at her again. “I might be terrible, but you’ll probably try to fix me.” 

* * *

 

_ She hit Hogwarts like a blazing comet, _ I repeated privately to myself as I watched Lian argue with Draco for the millionth time since they’d accepted each other. Draco leaned up against an old cabinet, the same one Montague had been trapped in for three days last year, his arms folded and his expression sour. Lian was gesticulating with both her real and her metal hand--which had been malfunctioning ever since she’d splinched herself and at random intervals would make rude gestures. We’d discovered this the hard way in Transfiguration, landing her detention with McGonagall for three weeks. Lian kept saying she’d fix it, but as of yet. . .

We were in the Room of Requirement, as Lian had dubbed it. Whether or not that was it’s official name, I didn’t know, but it certainly fit. For example, I knew I’d require a comfortable armchair the moment Lian had proposed her idea to us, and one appeared immediately. 

“I don’t trust the werewolf!” Draco snapped, repeating his original statement. “I’m not going to willingly lock myself in a room with it!”

“The full moon was three days ago, Draco!” Lian growled. She’d started using both of our first names recently, and I still wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Using mine was one thing, but it was as though she used Draco to prevent me from thinking it was anything more than just that. “He’s harmless until next month, and you said you wanted this!”

“I wanted it from a book, or even you, but never-not in a millennia will I ever-”

“I’m not a teacher! I don’t have the patience if you hadn’t noticed!” Lian shot back before he could finish. I bit my tongue. I had known Draco for a very long time, and if I’d ever learned anything in the length of that association, it was that Draco did not take being interrupted very well. He wouldn’t listen to her now, he’d just wait for her to breath e and then he’d strike back. “Look, either Lupin teaches us the spell, or I can ask Harry to do it.”  _ Oh no. Don’t go there. _

“What did you say?” Draco hissed, his eyes narrowing dangerously. 

“You know, Harry James Potter. The  _ Chosen One _ .”  _ Aaaaaand she went there. _

“THERE IS ONE THING I WILL NEVER DO AND THAT IS ASK POTTAH FOR HELP!”  _ Boom. _

They started yelling back and forth, each gaining in volume until I could bear to listen no more. Rising to my feet, I turned my wand on each of them in turn, silencing them both. Their mouths moved for a few seconds before the realization hit them. Then it was my turn to receive a pair of nasty looks.

“Look, Lupin might be a good idea, he might not. Potter wouldn’t help Draco out of a dark room, he wouldn’t teach him the patronus charm.” Turning solely to Lian because I already knew how Draco would react, I said , “We could ask Granger.”

Predictably, Draco’s hand flew to smack me upside the head. Lian was quicker, catching Draco’s wrist in her metal hand and shoving him backwards. She then turned a thoughtful expression on me. She wanted to know where the new idea had birthed from, why I would mention Hermione Granger. Why now.

I cleared my mind, as I’d been trained, and knew it had worked only when I caught the glimpse of impatience in her fiery gaze. She lifted her chin and tapped her throat, signaling for me to remove the silencing spell I’d placed upon her. I was tempted to not return her voice, but I knew she had more to say than a simple yes or no--she always did. 

“We could.” she said, sounding relieved when I freed her voice. Draco was gesturing angrily behind her, but I ignored him. “But I already asked for Lupin’s help. If you think Hermione will help you while I go to him--then I say go for it. . . Yes, pretty-boy, what is it?” she added. Draco had taken to tapping her shoulder incessantly. 

He mimed violently, communicating his displeasure at his treatment, their dismissal of his opinion, and how he’d rather snuggle a crocodile than kiss Granger. No, kick Granger. No? Right, so it got a bit fuzzy around the last part but I got the general idea. It was Lian who returned his voice; I was content to let him play charades for the rest of his days. 

“Granger? Are you joking? She would sooner hex part of us off before help us.”

“Yes but,” I mimicked a few of his more questionable gestures from before. “Before we sort through that--what was all this?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I was saying I’d rather get eaten by a werewolf than kiss-up to Granger.”

_ Uh huh. _ “So you agree we should learn from Lupin, then?”

“What-? No, I didn’t say-” Draco tried to take it back but Lian made his choice for him.

“Great. He told me to meet him in his office tomorrow night after dinner. Don’t forget.”

* * *

 

The next morning I found myself in Ancient Runes sitting beside one Hermione Granger. I supposed it to be further evidence of our new perception of one another; but it caused the other three in the classroom to give us odd looks. (Yes, that includes Professor Babbling.)

As she took the seat beside me, she leant down and picked something up from the floor. “What on earth-” When I spotted the silver object, I plucked it from her fingers before she got any ideas.

“That’s mine. Must’ve fallen out of my pocket.” I said hastily, hoping against hope that she’d drop the subject. 

“Why do you have that?” she asked, her brow furrowed as she studied my face. She wasn’t as good as x-raying or predicting my motives as Lian, but I had no doubt that she had her own methods. In an undertone she added, “Are you using that for classes?”

Not understanding how she jumped from one to the next, I slowly shook my head. That clearly wasn’t the correct response, judging from how her eyebrows rocketed up her forehead. “What does it matter?”

“Settle down,” Professor Babbling called, as he began to write new runes upon the board. “Today, we shall be discussing the similar runes. . .”

If I thought that our highly interesting topic of similar runes would distract Hermione long enough to forget about my object, I was very mistaken. She struck the moment we were released from class, with minutes to reach DADA. She grabbed my wrist, a feeling that I did not enjoy in the slightest, and dragged me into the nearest niche along the wall. 

“Talk.”

“Professor Babbling’s got cataracts in one eye, did you notice?” I began, saying the first thing that popped into my head, aside from the truth, that is. “I think it’s high time we got a new runes instructor, hopefully before we take our NEWTs-”

“Not that!” Hermione waved her hand impatiently. “Tell me why you have-” she broke off as a group of fourth years walked past, a few of them giving us looks full of judgement. She waited until they had rounded the corner, and then tried to pick my pocket. “This-!”

I grabbed her hands and pushed them back against the wall. “Believe me, you don’t need to know.”

Something about the glint in her eyes told me I’d just said the wrong thing. “I’m not letting this go away, Nott. Tell me what you’re doing with a that, or I’ll report you to Dumbledore.”

“What makes you think he doesn’t already know?” I asked slyly, but not convincing enough as she had the face of one who was about to call my bluff.

“Tell me why you have a Time-Turner,  _ now. _ ” said Hermione Granger dangerously.


	14. Facing Fear

Draco was prompt to Lupin's office, but Theo didn’t arrive until ten minutes past the hour, by which time Lian had already knocked and been admitted. She couldn’t be sure who was more uncomfortable by the slight change in plan; Lupin or Draco. When Theo did finally show up--and she had not expected him to by then--he was a welcome balance for the other men in the room. 

“Welcome, Mr. Nott,” said Lupin acknowledging him before he continued. “As I was telling Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Kowalski here, we’re going to try and get you to at least produce a patronus shield before we worry about bringing in a physical form for you to repel.”

“What, like bring in an actual dementor?” asked Theo incredulously.  “That’s not what the DA did-” he added before he could stop himself.

Draco looked around at him in alarm. “What?” He held Theo in a piercing stare for a ten seconds before he backed off. “Only joking. Lian told me about a month ago.”

Theo’s eye twitched but otherwise he did not respond. Lupin cleared his throat and asked them all to take out their wands, and focus on a happy memory. Draco and Theo gave the professor identical looks of ‘ _ Really _ ?’

While Lupin explained that that was how a Patronus was made, Lian closed her eyes and tried to think of something happy. She felt pretty happy whenever she sang with Jake, it was her fallback. But they hadn’t in such a long while. . . _ I should write him. _ She cast her memory out further. What about the thrill of joy she’d felt when she’d finally stepped into Hogwarts?  _ Maybe, but the circumstances were a bit strained. _ At length she settled on a memory; the one where she’d broken Perry Thompson’s nose. That had been a most excellent day.

“Concentrate hard on that happy memory,” Lupin’s voice broke into her focus, but she allowed it. “The incantation for this spell is  _ Expecto Patronum _ , so have a go when you’re ready.”

Lian pointed her wand and thought  _ Expecto Patronum!  _ She opened her eyes, expecting to see an animal of some kind blinking back at her, but she only saw a fading mist of bluish silver. Draco and Theo hadn’t fared much better. Lupin didn’t look worried. “Nothing to worry about. It would have been astounding if one of you had managed to make it work on a single try.”

_ I am astounding. Just you wait. _ Lian thought stubbornly, before she tried again. And again. And again. At some point she thought she saw whiskers but even they didn’t last. 

After a series of failures, Lupin called for them to halt a moment. “I won’t ask what you’ve each chosen as a happy memory. . . Instead should like to show you my own memory. Something that fills me and strengthens me, something that can fuel my magic, defend myself and others from the dementors fear.” 

He pointed his wand to his temple and withdrew a memory. Rather than depositing it in a basin—as he didn’t have one in the office, he made a complicated gesture with his wand and the silvery strand of memory expanded, until it appeared before them like a small picture. Lian, Theo and Draco leaned close to really see the images. They saw a boy a bit younger than they, tall and skinny, with mousy hair and scratches on his cheek. He was sitting beside the blake lake out on the grounds, the sunlight was skipping across the water’s surface, while he and four other boys sat laughing beneath the willow tree. 

“This is one of many memories that I’ve used to defend myself against a dementor. This was the day when I discovered I had friends who accepted me, and despite knowing of my lycanthropy, were not afraid of me. On the contrary, they made jokes about it, bringing light to my dark corner of the world.” Lupin explained quietly. With another prod of his wand, he replaced the memory into his temple, and looked at the three of them. “I think in your cases, finding a memory or thought that can fuel such a difficult spell cannot be found in a single evening.”

“What does that mean?” Draco asked.

“If you’d permit me, I’d like to give you three an assignment.” Lupin paused, waiting for one of them to object, but when they did not, he continued. “For the next several days, I want you to look deep, and find something real, something that makes you feel joy, hope, or peace. Without something to draw upon, you won’t be able to complete the spell.” 

Lian wanted to insist that they keep trying until she made a corporeal patronus like most of the DA had the previous year, but she was outvoted by Theo and Draco.

“Excellent,” said Lupin, smiling. “Let’s plan on Friday evening to continue, by which time I’ll have a better way for you all to learn.”

Something about the way he said that made Lian nervous, but she couldn’t worry about it just then. She now had emotional homework. That was new.

* * *

 

Over the next few days, Lian didn’t see much of Draco or Theo; she suspected they were busy soul-searching, however that might look. She took to practicing between classes on her own, thinking of different times were she thought she’d felt happy. She began to wonder whether her patronus was really nothing but a cloud, or if she was destined to produce nothing better than the fuzzy wisps that kept shooting out the tip of her wand. 

Predictably, Harry and Ron asked her what sort of spell she was trying to cast before Transfiguration on Thursday. 

“I thought you learned how to cast a patronus last year,” said Ron after she answered. 

“Yes well, as we all learned from the Umbridge incident--theory and practice are very different concepts.” Lian replied dryly. “Professor Lupin says I need to dig deep for a happy memory, but I can’t seem to settle on just one. . .” she looked at the pair of them thoughtfully. “What do you guys think of?”

“I think of my parents, or my friends or the day I found out I was leaving the Dursley’s to live with Sirius at Black Manor,” said Harry, grinning. 

“I think of Draco Malfoy,” Ron began, Lian gave a loud snort of laughter that attracted many onlookers. “Let me finish! I think of  _ Draco Malfoy, the Amazing, Bouncing Ferret _ .”

Needless to say, Lian spent that Transfiguration class sitting in the back between Daphne and Pansy, silently laughing into her hands. Her lack of attention earned her yet another detention with McGonagall, but it was worth it. 

Unfortunately she couldn’t cast a patronus on a borrowed memory, as hilarious as it was. Lian found Hermione during break that same afternoon and asked her what she thought of when she cast a patronus, seeking further inspiration. Unfortunately, her answers weren’t much better. (“Well it depends. The first time I cast it, I thought of the moment I knew I was a witch, and that I belonged someplace magical. But a few times I’ve pictured punching Malfoy in the face.” At which point Lian had to decide whether she was going to laugh or defend her ally. She settled for both.)

They’d each selected something that was specific to them. It wasn’t a generic feeling of good that could bring out the true patronus; whatever form it took would be unique to who she was at her core. At that point, it made her answer quite clear. All she had to do was put a positive spin on it, powerful enough to repel a dementor. 

_ Yeah, like that won’t be difficult. _ At least she had over twenty-four hours to figure that out. Hours that slipped through her grasp like sand, and before she knew it, she was back in Lupin’s office. 

“When I taught Harry how to use this spell, I had him fight against a boggart--which happened to turn into a dementor at the time. I asked him to join us this evening, but apparently he’d already planned for Quidditch practice, but perhaps another-” Lupin was explaining as Lian entered, finding her allies had arrived ahead of her this time. Her attention was caught by a large trunk that was shaking on the floor every so often. She’d practiced dispelling a boggart in her second year, but she’d long since gotten over her fear of drowning. She had no idea what would come for her out of that trunk tonight.

Draco sprouted a surly expression at the mention of Harry, but for once he didn’t comment. “Can we just start?”

“Whenever you three are ready. Now, a patronus will charge the boggart, but won’t actually get rid of it. Would you rather take it in turns or all at once?”

“Turns,” said Theo, while Draco nodded. Lian still felt wary of the creature, but agreed as well. “I’ll go first.”

It was unlike Theo to volunteer, but Lupin nodded and gestured for Draco and Lian to stand back. Theo withdrew his ash wand and shook out his shoulders in preparation. It was then that it occurred to Lian how much trust he had placed in her and Draco. It was very un-Slytherin like to willingly display fear. She glanced at Draco, but his jaw was set and his eyes fixed on the trunk as Lupin unlocked it with a wave of his wand. 

A furry, clawed hand gripped the edge, introducing the beast that climbed out of the trunk. Lian’s heart stopped as she learned something new about Theodore Nott. Watching the werewolf straightening itself in Lupin’s office, she couldn’t believe he’d agreed to be taught by someone he was secretly terrified of--the boggart-werewolf’s maw was coated in fresh blood, as though it had just finished off someone, and as it turned it’s golden gaze on Theo, it growled from deep in its throat and began its advance. 

Theo pointed his wand at it, and despite the fact that he was shaking from head to toe, he cried, “ _ Expecto Patronum! _ ” At first, Lian thought he’d only produced a cloud, but then she recognized it as a tail, as the creature, no bigger than the werewolf’s leg, scurried across the office floor and stood on its little hind legs, it’s tiny hands spread in a ‘cease, desist!’ gesture. The raccoon patronus gave off a kind of pulse, which was strong enough to make the boggart pause, considering the silvery animal as though it was a cheesecake. 

“ _ Riddikulus!”  _ Lupin cried, and with a loud CRACK, the boggart was back in the trunk. “Well done, Mr. Nott.” He considered Theo hesitantly, apparently hesitant to reach out to him directly. It wasn’t everyday you watched the worst side of yourself crawl out of a trunk and threaten a student. 

_ I mean, I hope. _

“Me next,” declared Draco, patting Theo on the shoulder, encouraging him to step back. He did so, taking steady breaths as he approached Lian, who thought he needed a hug or something. Too bad Daphne was back in the common room.

“Good job,” she whispered, giving him a bracing smile. He only responded with one of his funny looks, but she didn’t give it much thought as the trunk opened once more.

As Lord Voldemort rose from the trunk like a vampire from its coffin, the annoyingly inquisitive part of Lian’s mind wondered if he was a case of self-transfiguration gone horribly awry. He seemed more snake than man at some point, with his red eyes and slitted nostrils and the way the boggart made a kind of hissing noise as it advanced on Draco. 

He’d uttered a kind of whimper and stumbled back a few steps, his eyes wide as the Dark Lord drew nearer. Behind him, Lian and Theo raised their wands just in case.  _ Come on, Draco. . .it’s just a boggart _ . But how would she react when it was her worst fear climbing out of the trunk? Would she struggle to remember it wasn’t real like her allies? But no, it wasn’t just Voldemort glaring down at Draco, the boggart began speaking his fears, rather than just showing them.

“ _ You failed in your mission, Draco. Whom shall I kill first? Should it be sweet mother--all alone in the manor, or shall it be your disgraceful father? Or shall it be y-” _

“ _ E-Expecto P-Patronum!”  _ Draco stammered. A small poof of silver-blue something popped out the end of his wand, but nothing more. “ _ Expecto Patronum!”  _ Lord Voldemort laughed wickedly as another failed attempt spouted from the end of his wand. 

“Concentrate, Draco!” Lupin cried. “He’s not real!”

“ _ EXPECTO PATRONUM!” _ Draco yelled desperately, and something flew out of the tip of his wand and beat its wings furiously in boggart Moldevort’s face, who shrieked unpleasantly and staggered back where Lupin stepped in and forced him back into the trunk. The silence that spread between the four of them afterward was heavy, insomuch that Draco’s patronus vanished after a few heartbeats. As for himself, he’d fallen to his knees, taking deep, shuddering breaths as he tried to calm himself. 

Lian went to kneel beside him, hesitantly placing a hand at his back. Her mother rubbed her back when she was feeling overwhelmed, and that always seemed to help, so she did the same with Draco. He went stiff first, but eventually he seemed to relax a bit. At least enough to get back up again.

“I think we should stop for tonight,” said Lupin warily, but the look on Lian’s face made him add, “I don’t think it wise to continue putting you through-”

“My turn.” Lian said through grit teeth. She’d come this far, she was not going to back down. Making sure that Draco was far enough away--she’d rather not face of Voldemort herself--she jerked her head at Lupin.  _ Let’s get this over with. _

Surprisingly, Lupin obliged. Perhaps he thought that she couldn’t possibly be afraid of the Dark Lord, or werewolves, or anything half as frightening. Perhaps he thought that hers was a phobia that wouldn’t make sense to anyone else in the room, or maybe her fear was something as simple as spiders or mice. . .Either way, when the boggart rose from the trunk for a third time, it was in a most unexpected form. 

Lian did not remember lowering her wand arm, but it must’ve happened the instant she saw the boy standing there. He had dark hair and sharp, silvery eyes. Their intensity pierced her soul, but that was not the scary part. At his feet lay a body,  _ her _ , lying in a pool of blood, robes ripped to shreds. But she wasn’t dead, not yet. She was choking, struggling to stay alive, her left hand reaching feebly for the boy with the murderous look in his eye. 

Lian’s heart seemed to stop beating, her ears tuned out the sound. She had tunnel vision, she was standing in a dark room alone with the boy, and her dying body.

“ _ It’s only a matter of time, Jules. . .” _ the boy whispered sinisterly. 

Lian didn’t remember screaming. She didn’t remember setting off a freezing shield, momentarily paralyzing the other three wizards in the room. She didn’t remember casting a patronus, like she didn’t remember moving her feet. Her whole memory of what happened next was blank. All she knew, was that she returned to her senses around midnight, her face was covered in dried tears, and someone was holding onto her tight.


	15. Impossible

Whatever Remus had anticipated, it most certainly hadn’t been to see  _ him _ crawling out of the trunk. Rather than banishing the boggart easily, as they’d all anticipated, Lian screamed like a child in pain and released a kind of shock wave from the tip of her wand. She stunned Malfoy, Nott and Remus himself for about five seconds, which was more than enough time to get out of the office, her hysteric sobs echoing down the corridor. 

The moment Nott had recovered he went after her, while Malfoy remained, staring at the spot where Lian’s boggart had been. It had transformed into Lord Voldemort once more, but after watching such a violent reaction, Malfoy didn’t seem bothered by it. As a matter of fact, he pointed his wand at the Dark Lord and muttered, “ _ Riddikulus! _ ” and Remus got the pleasure of hearing Voldemort speak with a high-pitched, sped up version of his voice. “ _ There-is-no-escape. Don’t-make-me-destroy-you. Draco-you-do-not-yet-realize-your-importance-You-have-only-begun-to-discover-your-power-Join-me-and-I-will-complete-your-training-With-our-combined-strength-we-can-end-this-*” _ Boggart-Voldemort broke off and rounded on Remus, who was laughing despite the circumstances. With a loud crack, the boggart turned into the moon, which he was able to banish easily back into the trunk. 

“What was that?” Draco asked, and Remus had to bite back the very Sirius reply that sprung to his lips.  _ You tell me; since when do you know Darth Vader quotes? _

“That was Lian’s darkest fear,” he replied evenly. 

“But  _ what _ was that? She was on the floor--dying! And who was that man, standing over her--what does that mean-” Draco moved to the spot where the boggart had been, staring around the office as if he could gain perspective in doing so. Remus underestimated him. “What’s that?”

“I beg your-” Remus watched as Draco marched over to the desk, and snatched up the only framed picture he had there. His heart sank slightly as Draco glared down at the picture. “Mr. Malfoy, let me-”

“Who is this!?” Draco demanded, pointing at the picture and glaring over at Remus. “Lian’s boggart--the man, you know him, don’t you?”

“I don’t know why the boggart decided to show Lian what it did, but if I’m right, then yes, I know him.” Remus took the picture from Draco, gesturing towards the office door. “We’d better find your friends, before I explain further. It’s long past due I had a talk with Ms. Kowalski.”

The moment they exited the office however, Draco started heading in one direction while Remus went for the stairs. 

“Stay close, Mr. Malfoy,” Remus cautioned. “If we run off without a hint of direction it could be hours before we find her.”

“Am I to believe you’ve got a foolproof way to know her exact location, then?” Draco replied snarkily as he changed direction to follow him. 

“Indeed,” Remus answered simply. He led the way up to Gryffindor Tower, where he asked a couple of second years to fetch Hermione, and then stood back to wait outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, who kept her suspicious gaze on Draco. 

“What are you playing at-“ Draco began to ask, when a flourish of wild brown hair alerted him to Hermione's’ arrival. 

“Oh-! Professor Lup-“ she broke off abruptly, quickly taking notice of the Slytherin. “What’s wrong?” 

“First things first, Hermione,” said Remus hastily before either rival could unsheathe their claws. “I wonder if you could fetch the map for me, it’s very important.” 

Hermione nodded, albeit distractedly. “Wait a moment,” and she disappeared back into the hole behind the portrait. 

“What map?” Draco inquired the moment she had gone. 

“You’ll see,” said Remus vaguely. He’d always found that it was better to show the map, rather than attempt to explain it.  _ Not to mention, it’s much more dramatic this way, _ whispered the voice that sounded like James. 

_ Drama queen, _ Lily would scoff. 

Not much long after she’d left, Hermione returned, handing the map to Remus, and then frowned at Draco. “Professor if I might ask-“

Remus cleared his throat and tapped the blank parchment with his wand. “ _ I solemnly swear that I am up to no good _ ,” and watched in mild nostalgia as the ink scribbled itself across. Then he was unfolding it further, scanning the castle carefully for the two names he was looking for. Beside him he heard Draco make a noise that could have been amazement, but also indignation. 

“Is that Filch in the library?” He muttered softly. Hermione snorted for an unknown reason, and it was then that Remus found what he was looking for. 

“Ah-ha,” he sighed, folding the map up again and tapping it once more. “ _ Mischief managed. _ It would seem that she went outside, Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Nott found her alright but we should probably go and assist-“

“Wait-you could see them on that dingy old-“ Draco stammered incredulously. “What  _ was _ that thing?”

Remus grimaced and began to move down the corridor. He could explain along the way. It was minutes after that he recognized that Hermione had kept pace with them, clearly burning with curiosity. He  _ had _ just used the Marauders Map in front of Draco Malfoy of all people, something interesting was afoot. 

She and Draco exchanged half-hearted jabs at one another, more out of habit than beef. “Get back to your den, this doesn’t concern you!”

“That’s rich, coming from the one so far from his pit! Lian’s my friend, what’s she to you?”

“Who said anything about Lian Kowalski and none of your-“

They stopped as the three of them walked past Peeves who was painting mustaches on all the portraits along the fourth floor. 

When they reached the landing, Hermione took out her wand and waved it over the paint, pointed it at Peeves and cried, “ _ Oppugno! _ ” Instantly the mustaches broke away from the portraits and flew after the poltergeist like a flock of oddly shaped bats. 

“Interesting choice, Granger,” commented Draco. 

“I learn from the best,” she replied with a shrug, warming Remus’s heart. He’d be lying if the chewing gum incident hadn’t risen to the front of his mind as they walked. 

At long last, they reached the grounds and even at a distance they could see the argument taking place. Nott had actually taken out his wand and was brandishing it at Mr. Quince. Lian was laid out on the grass between them. 

“For heaven's sake,” Remus sighed, quickening his pace towards the young wizards, Draco and Hermione at his heels. “ _ Protego!” _ He cast the shield charm over Lian, causing the two boys to back up a few paces. “Mr. Quince, what are you doing?” 

The young  _ (freakishly tall,) _ man straightened at once, becoming ( _ if possible _ ) taller. “I was headed back to my common room when I saw her running away from him-“ he jerked his head at Nott, who stood glaring at him. “She looked petrified so I stepped in and tried to help-“

“At which point,” Nott added from the other side of the shield, “she punched him in the stomach.” He then made eye contact with Draco and mouthed,  _ With her right hand.  _ Remus heard Draco inhale sharply. “So then he chased both of us all the way out here—after catching his breath, that is.”

Remus lowered the shield charm to allow Hermione to inspect Lian, who lay ominously still. “Why did she collapse?” 

“Not sure,” Nott answered, moving cautiously forward. “She just dropped a few minutes ago—still crying.”

“And he refuses to say why—which can only mean that it’s his fault.” Quince concluded. 

“Mr. Quince, as noble as your intentions might have been, I’m afraid this doesn’t concern you.” Remus said briefly. He already had to contend with Hermione, he wasn’t looking forward to a confrontation with an arrogant student such as the giant Hufflepuff. 

“I respectfully disagree, sir,” Quince replied. “I could smell her fear for ten minutes before she ran through the great hall. I’ve known her for seven years and in all that time I’ve never seen her so much as scream at vermin, let alone run away at top speed.” 

“She’s alright, I think she simply wore herself out,” said Hermione from the grass, where she was cradling Lian’s head in her lap. “And as irksome as you’ll find this sir, I’d like to know what happened as well.” 

Beside him, Draco got up on his figurative high horse. “It has nothing to do with either of you. Nose out, or I’ll-“

“Shut up, Malfoy.” Hermione snapped. 

“Let’s at least get her inside, and then we can sort out who deserves to know what.” He went to conjure a stretcher for her, but was beaten to the punch when a very strange thing happened. Quince went to bend to lift Lian up, but winced horribly as his stomach—which Remus had to assume was bruised in some way—complained. It was Mr. Nott, skinny, silent and unremarkable Mr. Nott who gathered her up and carried her back to the castle. 

It was lucky, Remus thought as they passed parallel to the pitch, that the Gryffindor team had not spotted their oddly assorted group when they trekked inside moments earlier. He led the high-strung teenagers back into his office and transfigured one of his chairs into a lounge, where upon Nott dropped Lian unceremoniously. 

The trunk containing the boggart shuddered as the door closed behind Quince. Hermione eyed it warily, sending a questioning glance at Remus, then Nott. “What’s going on?”

Before Draco could say something rude, Remus spoke. “Lian asked if I could help her conjure a patronus, and in the past I’d taught Harry using a boggart, so I decided to use the same method.” He gazed evenly between Quince and Hermione. He was certain Lian wouldn’t mind revealing this much to them. “Unforeseeably, she suffered something of a panic attack upon facing her boggart--which is her business,” he added, seeing the curious look on Hermione and Quince’s face. “Now that you know, I would ask the both of you to leave my office--Misters Nott and Malfoy were due for detention with me.”

“What about Lian?” Quince asked.

“She’s free to leave when she awakes,” he replied with a shrug. “Which she will in her own time. Return to your common room then, if you please.”

Quince left, reluctantly and made certain to glare one last time at Nott before he allowed the door to close behind him. Hermione remained, crossing her arms. “You can lie to him but I know there’s more to it then that. Nott’s never gotten a detention before-”

“Yes I have,” Nott replied. “Last year when I dumped the contents of my cauldron over Snape.”

“Yes but that was Lian’s fault, she confundo’d y-” Hermione paused. “Oh you didn’t know. Nevermind.”

“Wait, what?”

“Hermione I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to allow you to remain either,” Remus said. “Though I do appreciate your aid with the map.”

“Wait,  _ what? _ ” Nott repeated.

“But sir, I can-”

“Stay.” Draco surprised everyone in the room by uttering the word. Hermione most of all, judging by her expression. She turned slowly to look up at Malfoy, eyes wide. Draco straightened his posture even more, if possible, (he’d been terribly tense since leaving the office in the first place.) “You can stay, so long as you keep your mouth shut, and swear you won’t say a word to Potter or Weasley about what you hear.” Remus watched curiously as he exchanged a nod with Nott. 

Hermione looked like she was about to protest, but her eyes raked the office twice before she finally sighed softly. “Alright.” 

“Dumbledore and McGonagall neither,” Nott added suddenly, and she looked even more frustrated as she lifted Lian’s head to provide a space for herself on the lounge.

“Fine.” She answered briskly, cradling the unconscious’ girls’ head in her lap once again. “Not a word.”

Remus fidgeted at his desk as Lian remained decidedly comatose--she was the one he really needed to speak to, the one who could provide the proper answers. But perhaps those closest to her at this school, they might know more than they realized. Possibly. . . “Mr. Nott, if I might ask, did you recognize the wizard portrayed by Lian’s boggart?”

Hermione sent a dark look at the trunk on the floor, but kept her promise to not speak. Theodore folded his arms across his chest from where he stood beside the lounger. “I might have. I was a bit distracted at the time by the corpse lying on the floor.”

“You said you knew him, Professor,” Draco prompted, eying the framed photograph on Remus’s desk. 

“I prefaced that statement with ‘ _ if I’m right _ ’, I believe,” Remus reminded him. “I only want to be certain of the wizard’s identity before opening that particular wound.” He turned back to Theodore. “Well?”

“. . .Lian doesn’t know this. . .” he began hesitantly. “But I think I know how she met that wizard.”

“So she  _ has _ met him, then?” Remus said eagerly. “When? How?”

But Theodore shook his head firmly. “It’s not my memory to tell. I shouldn’t have said anything to begin with--I could easily be mista-”

“No, of course not, you’re right. We can’t very well continue this conversation without her.” Remus withdrew his wand, pointing it at Lian’s body. “ _ Rennervate! _ ” 

Lian’s eyes opened immediately, and she sat up, giving the office a wild-eyed look, and for a few minutes, Remus felt as though a migraine were coming on. Moments later she calmed down and the feeling vanished. 

“Wh-” she croaked, cleared her throat, and tried again. “What happened?” She took in the couch, and Hermione. “When did that happen?”

“It’s not important,” Remus said. “What do you remember?”

She shivered. “I remember my boggart. That’s about it.”

“Ooh. Remind me to tell you a story later,” Theodore muttered under his breath, the tiniest hint of a grin at the corner of his mouth. 

“About your boggart,” Lian bit her lip as Remus spoke. “Why are you afraid of being murdered? Do you know the identity of that wizard?”

Hermione slapped her hand over her mouth in order to keep her promise. Lian sighed deeply, her lips pursed as she decided on the words to use. “It’s complicated.” she began, studying her fingers. “I don’t know him, but he knows me. He used to protect me from danger, popping up in moments when I was alone or in danger. Last year was the first time I was in real trouble and he didn’t appear…” She swallowed and added, “I began to wonder if there was a reason.”

“Do you know his name?” Remus pressed.

“He’s never told me but. . .” Lian lifted her chin to meet his gaze, and he was slightly shocked to find a familiar kind of coldness in them.  _ Impossible. _ “. . .I think his name is Roman.”

_ Why would she think that, if he’s never introduced himself? It’s not a common name like Bob. _ Remus pushed his thoughts down as he nodded at Lian. “Why do you fear him killing you, if he’s--as you say--protected you thus far?”  _ Currently ignoring the flaws in that logic. _ But Lian had risen to her feet and backed away from the desk, about as close to the door as she could before one of them could get to her. “Wait, you don’t have to run--this is a safe space.”

“It’s just a boggart, a shadow of my darkest hauntings. It’s my business when and how I face it. If you’ll all excuse me I-”

It was Hermione who cast the stunning spell on her. Draco, who was nearest, caught her shoulders before she dropped to the floor. When Remus turned on Hermione, a reprimand already on his tongue, she said, “She was going to run again, you could hear it in her voice.”

“That doesn’t mean the correct action was knocking her unconscious again,” said Remus tiredly. “That’s enough for tonight. All of you, back to your houses, please.”

“But what about-” Draco asked, glancing from Remus to his desk and back again. “Were you right--about the wizard-?”

“Another time, Mr. Malfoy.” Remus insisted, ushering them out of his office. He closed and locked the door, pressing his forehead against the smooth surface. 

It wasn’t possible. How could Lian Kowalski, an American born in 1979 know the name and face of Roman?

At first she’d answered so easily, but refused to say why she was afraid of him. What did her boggart mean? There was more, more that she wouldn’t reveal by simple questioning. He wouldn’t dream of using Veritaserum on a student before then, and still stood by that moral obligation but he couldn’t help but feel it was the simpler path laid out before him. 

He’d be surprised if she ever trusted him again after tonight. But he had to know, Sirius certainly deserved to know--what did Lian have to do with Roman?

* * *

 

Once inside the Slytherin common room, Draco and Theo placed Lian in one of the armchairs by the fire, making it seem as though she’d merely drifted off whilst basking in the glow of its embers. 

“You said you knew how she’d known that Roman bloke,” Draco said as they stepped away, watching their ally carefully. “How?”

“It involves sleepwalking and a very grouchy head of house,” Theo replied vaguely. “Since we’re changing the subject; your biggest fear is the Dark Lord?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Hark who’s talking--since when are you scared of werewolves?”

“Not all of them--that was Fenrir Greyback,” Theo answered in a matter-of-fact tone. “You remember him, he was recently recruited by the Dark Lord himself.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that your fear of him grew overnight?” replied his old friend skeptically.

“No. More like over three thousand six hundred and fifty nights.”

Draco swallowed as the realization hit. “Oh.” He was quiet for several minutes, before venturing to change the topic of discussion one last time. “Do you still have it?”

Theo took the silver Time-Turner out of his pocket and held it up to the fire. “I take it things have changed?”

“If she gets her hands on it again you know what’s going to happen.” Draco replied softly. “We’d do better without it anyway.”

“I told Granger about it,” Theo admitted.

“Doesn’t matter,” the blond boy took the hourglass and cast it into the fireplace where it would be destroyed upon the re-litting of the flames. “It’s over now.”

Slightly more relaxed, both boys retreated to their dormitory, while the dying light warmed their ally’s face as she remained detached and unaware of the world around her.

Or so they thought.


	16. Reflections

“It might have escaped your notice, what with all your gallivanting about the school, but there  _ is _ a curfew!” 

Pansy didn’t care for the rules, especially not when they were personally inconvenient. Lian had seen enough of her behavior by that time to know that she was expressing her concern by reprimanding her. She could have spent the night in prison for all the other girl cared, so long as she released a memo about it first. Her roommate was feeling neglected, and she was not alone. Lian had spent the majority of her time this year working with Draco and Theo, she hardly chatted with Daphne, Pansy or Millie these days. The night before had been the seventh instance where Lian hadn’t made it back to the dormitory, and Pansy had decided enough was enough. 

_ Still,  _ Lian reflected as she watched the other girl rant over her poached eggs.  _ Breakfast is an interesting choice of attack.  _ The majority of people sitting in their radius had decided to listen in or watch curiously. 

“I’ll have you know that this school isn’t as safe as everyone should like to think!” Pansy continued after pausing to breathe. “So far this year everyone’s ignored the attacks happening outside the not so secure shell this school hides behind, and on top of that there’s mad centaurs in the forest and two— I say again, not one but TWO werewolves in the very walls of this place, who could strike at any moment! Are you listening to me, Kowalski?”

_ Ooh, surname card. I’m in big trouble.  _ “Yes, Parkinson, I hear you.” 

“Good. Now then, where were you last night?”

Lian decided she might as well be honest.  _ To a degree. _ “I was studying late, and on my way back to the common room I took a wrong turn and had a rather unpleasant run in with a boggart. I was so emotionally exhausted by the time I expelled it, I could barely drag myself to the dungeons let alone to the dormitory.”

“Or she was out with Theodore and lost track of time,” suggested Daphne, who had been listening with a disapproving sneer on her face. The fact that Lian didn’t keep curfew bothered her more than Pansy, but in her case it was a matter of morality or something. 

“Believe what you will,” Lian replied dismissively. “I’ve given my answer. Now, who’s looking forward to Apparition lessons this morning?” she changed the subject to a chorus of groans and several unpleasant names for Mr. Twycross and his three D’s.

The lessons had not been terribly well-received but there were a few success stories, prominent among them being Adam Quince and Zacharias Smith, and also--to everybody’s surprise, Blaise Zabini. (“An ability to get away from boring people in the blink of an eye? Piece of cake.”) Lian could apparate from one spot to the next--in fact that was the easy part. The only thing holding her back was her ability to aim properly. Since her initial “splinching”, she’d landed on three people, somehow managed to apparate out of her jacket--a point which confused everyone who had witnessed it--and later that morning she splinched off quite a bit of her hair. She planned on getting it fixed that afternoon in Hogsmeade. 

Harry and Ron arrived nearly forty minutes late to Apparition lessons, and by that time there was almost no point. Hermione was working near Theo and Lian when they arrived, and neither missed the disdainful expression fired in Ron’s direction. 

“Did they forget to set the alarm?” Lian asked.

“It’s Ron’s birthday,” Hermione said briskly. “Apparently he had loads of presents and began stuffing his face with any sweet in sight-” she rolled her eyes. “And one of the boxes was actually Harry’s--he was cleaning his side or something, and chucked it across the room on accident--and it was chocolate spiked with love potion.”

Theo choked, and Lian imagined that the idea that anyone would use sweets against another person appalled him. She would never forget his sweet tooth as long as she lived, and made a mental note to never try to trick him with candy.  “Isn’t he snogging Brown?”

Hermione breathed through her nose. “Well, he was yesterday. All morning he wouldn’t shut up about Romilda Vane, and Harry tried to prevent him from doing something stupi d .”

“Tried?” It was Pansy who spoke up, sounding intrigued, despite the fact that it was Hermione Granger, muggleborn and Gryffindor, who was speaking. “Meaning that he possibly failed?”

“Well, the potion made him think of Lavender as insignificant, and he dismissed her repeatedly all through breakfast. But then he actually spotted Romilda and chased her the length of castle from the entrance hall to the astronomy tower.”

“Yeah, but did anything interesting happen?” Pansy demanded. 

Hermione wrinkled her nose. “Nothing that Harry would tell me.”

“Too bad,” Pansy sniffed, then turned on the spot to attempt to make it into the hoop. She missed by several inches and tripped on her shoelace. Hermione reached out to help her balance, and once she had, Pansy did not flinch or shriek as she might have done before. Nearby, Lavender Brown slapped a disoriented Ron so hard it could have been a thunderclap. 

* * *

 

The village was a welcome change of scenery. She was able to locate a salon across the street from Honeydukes, and they fixed her hair with ease. She was fidgeting with her silver arm when asked if she wanted anything specially changed, and she bit her lip as she nodded once. She was curious about something. 

“Right then, miss,” drawled the stylist as she examined her work, her tone slightly apathetic.. “How’s the length?”

“Better.”

“And the color? You sure you want to change it? I only mean your original color is so lovely-” she added, even as she stirred the potion behind Lian. “Seems a shame to waste it.”

“I’m sure.”

An hour later she made her way to the Three Broomsticks, making her way to a table in the back corner, which was already occupied by two witches. As she took a seat opposite them, Lian gave a careless salute. “Good afternoon.”

“You’re late,” the first witch snapped. She had bright, amber colored eyes and skin like fresh coffee, which was either marred or enhanced by a large scar that stretched across the left side of her face. Lian didn’t know what her real name was, but everyone in her office called her the Reaper. She had a prominent bone-structure, and though she wore a travelling cloak, Lian knew her entire body had more muscle than anything else. 

Her partner was a bit more compassionate with her greeting. “I like your hair. What have you got for us, Kowalski?”

“A description,” the Reaper barked. “You said in your message that you had a description of him.”

Lian folded her hands in her lap as she gathered her words. “To start: thank you both for coming here on short notice. I know that when I first approached yo u, the details were a bit sketchy. But I actually have a better idea of what his captor looked like.”

The Reaper scoffed while her partner leaned forward eagerly. She was a slight woman with small eyes that were filled with wonder. She rather reminded Lian of a starving hamster. She’d tried to make the nickname “Scythe” popular around her office, but despite her efforts, she was still Brit Carter. She had a cousin about Jake’s age, actually. 

Perhaps an odd duo, they were esteemed aurors from MACUSA. They’d tried to reopen Oliver’s case several times, but to no avail. Lian heard about them one day while visiting her mother at work and made the initial contact. The Reaper was especially interested to discover how someone could simply disappear from the face of the earth, while Ms. Carter was sympathetic for the Kowalski family. (“The least we can offer is closure for your poor parents.”)

“Well?” Reaper asked impatiently.

Using the new trick she’d seen Lupin do just the previous evening, Lian showed the memory of her boggart--well, half of it. The wizard, Roman, at most. “I wasn’t sure at first, but I’m beginning to think he has something to do with my brother’s disappearance.”

“He does not look happy,” Ms. Carter commented, eying the memory with varying amounts of surprise. “But then I guess, if he’s a criminal, that might just be how his face falls.”

“You saw him?” Reaper said skeptically.

“Sort of. This was actually a boggart, but that is definitely him.”

“He American?” the dark auror asked.

“No, I think he’s English. I mean, I’ve never asked but. . .”

“Silver eyes,” Carter observed. “You don’t see those everyday. But I’m pretty sure there’s a bloodline. . .what’s their name. . .”

“You mean the Black family?” Reaper supplied. 

“Yeah,” Carter replied. “That sounds about right.”

“Wait, like Sirius Black?” Lian interjected. “He’s harmless; he wouldn’t resort to kidnapping.”

“Sirius Black is a separate headcase,” Reaper grunted. “There used to be more of them, and they were all a bit-”

“Questionable?” Carter suggested.

“-I was gonna say insane, but either way, it’s possible they’re connected.”

“But why?” Lian frowned. 

“Who knows,” the Reaper smacked her hand down on the table as she got to her feet. “We’ll keep you posted on what we discover.” 

“Your information was very helpful, Kowalski. You did the right thing by telling us.” Brit Carter informed her, smiling as she got up as well. 

Feeling a little let down, Lian let them leave without argument. They weren’t gone for very long however, when their seats were claimed by two familiar faces. 

“Well skin me alive and wear me like a hat,” said George Weasley. “It's the imported owl.”

“You might have to skin her instead,” Fred added, staring. “What have you done to your hair?” 

Lian shrugged. “I needed a change.” 

“Change? That doesn't sound like our imported owl,” George said, scooting his chair closer to hers. “What are you doing in a pub all by yourself?” 

“I have an idea,” Lian started suddenly. “How about we don't talk about what  _ I'm  _ doing here and instead focus on why  _ you’re _ here.” 

“We bought Zonko’s.” Fred stated happily. “Finally a Hogsmeade branch.”

“For what?” 

The twins looked remarkably offended that she didn't know what they were talking about. “Our joke shop! Blimey, did nobody tell you?” Lian shook her head. “Right. We’re fixing that.” 

George seized her by the arm and practically dragged her from the table and out into the crowded street. “What are-“ Lian began to ask, but then she felt George twist away from her suddenly, and the air around her compressed as though she was being ironed flat. Just when she couldn’t breathe anymore, everything returned to normal, and she was standing alongside the twins in an unrecognized street. But she wasn’t bothered by the lack of people moving about the cobblestone, nor the wand shop that had been blasted to smithereens at the end of the lane. Lian’s attention, sight and sound was held captive by the shockingly designed shop a few steps away. 

“Welcome,” Fred and George said proudly. “To Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes!” 

Set against the dull, poster-muffled shop fronts around them, Fred and George’s windows hit the eye like a firework display. The left-hand window was dazzlingly full of an assortment of goods that revolved, popped, flashed, bounced, and shrieked;  Lian’s eyes began to water just looking at it. The right-hand window was covered with a gigantic poster, purple like those of the Ministry, but emblazoned with flashing yellow letters:

WHY ARE YOU WORRYING ABOUT

YOU-KNOW-WHO?

YOU SHOULD BE WORRYING ABOUT 

U-NO-POO

THE CONSTIPATION SENSATION

THAT’S GRIPPING THE NATION!

Lian started to laugh. It had been so long since she’d honestly just laughed out of amusement than sarcasm, and found it was the most relieving feeling in the world. The twins led her inside and showed her around their packed shelves and over the heads of their customers. The shop was presently being run by a blonde woman in magenta robes, George called her Verity. 

Moving through the aisles, Lian spotted Skiving Snackboxes, No-Maj magic tricks, Edible Dark Marks, an entire Shield Wardrobe--which made her pause thoughtfully. Fred watched as she picked up one of the Shield Gloves, examining it. “If I remember correctly, you could cast a Shield Charm just fine on your own,” he said offhandedly. “These were more meant for the wizards who couldn’t manage.”

“I understand,” she replied simply. “But you’ve seen paintings of people in the medieval times, right? Many of their bravest and best warriors carried a sword and a shield, fighting offensively and defensively in perfect balance.” She put the glove back down, turning to face Fred. “While I think wearing a glove to hide my arm is counter-productive to my ideals-” she rolled up her sleeve to show him her forearm, “-do you think you could make this operate in the same way?”

“Whoa,” George moved closer to look at the metal limb. “When did that happen?”

“Bellatrix Lestrange,” she answered. “Can you enchant it or not?” A thought struck her and she added quickly. “And I don’t want a simple shield charm I want it-” her gaze raked the silver arm from its base to the fingertips. “-Spell-proof.”

The twins exchanged a look. “No problem.”

“But why? What are you planning?” Fred asked.

“I’m not sure yet,” she said coyly. “But I need to be ready for whatever comes my way, right?”  _ So much for honesty. Shut up. _

“Of course,” George nodded. “Come with us to the lab then, we’ve got about an hour of work ahead of us.”

* * *

 

As the twins “worked”, ( _ experimented is a more accurate term, _ ) Lian let her mind wander. Closing her eyes and breathing deeply was not as effective as flying through the sky, but she managed somehow. She hadn’t allowed herself to stop and think for quite some time. 

_ Time. _ Only one event stood in her way now. Sometimes she wondered if saving Sirius Black had been the right move. It certainly hadn’t happened the first time around.  _ But was it enough to change anything? ...probably not.  _

True to their word, the process only took about an hour. But they warned her that because it was a rough job, they weren’t sure how long the enchantment would last. “In other words, don’t walk around thinking you’re invincible.”

They took her back to Hogsmeade via Side-Along Apparition. As they ducked into Honeydukes for their own purposes, Lian meandered down the street, her feet taking her towards the Shrieking Shack. Later, when she would reflect on the encounter, she would realize that she’d been pulled there, rather than walking at random. As the haunted mansion came into view, she realized that somebody else was already at the gate, and she could only view the back of his head. 

“What are you doing out here alone?” she asked him, moving closer. “I thought Daphne made you promise to spend the afternoon with her.” As ladylike as Daphne tried to be, deep down she was just as cunning as the rest of the House, and when she wanted something, she got it. Lian couldn’t imagine how he had slipped away. “Is something wrong?”

“You could say that,” Theo’s voice was strange, and as Lian drew nearer, something in the back of her mind told her to turn and run away. “Theodore is otherwise occupied, which is just as well,” The guy turned to face her and Lian felt her heart stop beating as she recognized the face. She’d only seen him last night, after all, standing over her dead body. . . “You and I need to talk.” Roman declared. 

When did she get her hand on her wand? Maybe she’d unconsciously drawn it the moment her insides started to squirm in panic. Either way, Lian fired off spell after spell at the man standing only a few lengths away from her. He withdrew his own wand in a flash and deflected them with ease. Distantly she recognized that he was a leftie as well.  _ Focus! INCARCEROUS!  _ Ropes shot out the end of her wand, ropes that with a single flick from her enemies wand, were transfigured into flower petals, that showered down around them. 

“When I said talk, I meant actual words passing between us in conversation,” Roman said acidly, as though dueling was nothing more than tediously pointless in his view. “I’ve battled you enough times to know that we’re evenly matched.”

“What are you talking about?!” Lian shot back angrily. “You’ve never battled me before now!”

“Oh. So it was you who shot first,” he mused. “I always wondered.”

“What!” Lian didn’t understand his words, as usual. But after yesterday, she never wanted to hear him speak again. 

“But if you’ve never battled me before now, why do you feel the need to attack me on sight?” he asked.

“Let’s call it premonition.” Lian shot back, as well as firing a series of hexes from off the top of her head. 

“ _ Scutum gelida! _ ” Roman cried before Lian could summon the charm. The power of every hex she’d fired so far, doubled back at her, but instead of individual strikes, they came as one wave, paralyzing her for an undetermined amount of time. “I learned that one from you, last time I met you. American spells are dreadfully useful. But I digress,” he moved closer, taking notice of her metal arm. “It’s already started for you; but you don’t even know.” His sharp silver eyes flicked up to meet her fiery ones. “Look, I’m going to make this easy for you. There’s nothing you can do to save Oliver. That said, I know you’re going to go ahead and try anyway. And please do, but first, you have to leech everything you can from the old geezer.” He tapped his temple. “Without those memories and insights, this whole thing is without purpose.”

Lian felt the use begin to return to her lips. “W-what are you talking about?”

“I know your plan. You’ve been lying for so long, I’m surprised you remember it yourself--but you want to go back to the moment Oliver was taken, and prevent it from ever happening.” Roman shook his head at her. “It won’t work. There are forces at work that will prevent you from changing that particular moment in history.”

“Such as?” she hissed.

“Well,” he shrugged. “Me, for one. And honestly, I think my votes the most important. But did you ever stop to consider all the reasons you should just let it go? I take it by the grinding of your teeth that your answer is a solid no. Allow me to fill you in-” He stopped when Lian spat at him. “-Rude. Look, up until your accident, I have looked out for you. Saved you. I need you to live.”

“I could have died last year, and you never came.” There. She voiced her resentment towards him. “Explain that.”

He almost smiled at her. “You’ll understand one day.”

“If I don’t understand in the next five minutes, I will use every ounce of strength I have to k-” 

“ _ Langlock!” _ he used a spell she didn’t recognize, a spell that glued her tongue to the roof of her mouth, effectively silencing her. “Yeah, you really don’t think before you threaten, do you? I’d tell you to work on that but I know you won’t. Look. I know you’re going to go back in time, and I know you’ve been trying all year. The lovely little ticker in your pocket isn’t a regular Time-Turner, you must’ve realized that by now. It only works when properly fueled, another thing you’ve worked out on your own. But I’m telling you this for your own good, and for the good of all--if you try deep diving without looking through Dumbledore’s mind first, we’re all screwed. Past. Present. Future. So keep your hands off the hourglass until after that. Kapeesh?”

“Who are you?” Lian demanded, the feeling returning to her neck and shoulders. “Why have you been following me?”

Roman took a lazy step backwards, a quizzical grin on his proud face. “What if I’m not? What if you’re the one following me?” he gave a soft exhale that could have been a laugh. “Something to think about.”

With a soft pop, he vanished, leaving her to thaw out on a fine day in mid-March.

 


	17. A Two-Way Street

He’d wanted to talk to the four of them since that night. But each was remarkably adept at avoiding him--and then he was off-kilter for a few days when the March full moon came around, and it wasn’t until April that Adam devised a way to corner his prey. 

Since the whole school knew what he was, there was one particular being in the entire castle that found special amusement in taunting him. Peeves, the poltergeist, had followed him around for an entire week with a painting of the full moon, sometimes just sticking with him, and other times he would jump out from behind a suit of armor, howling, trying to get Adam to change prematurely. 

Adam decided to fight fire with fire, and the next time Peeves sprung out at him, he jinxed the hair on his face to grow out like  _ Teen Wolf (1985) _ , and bit the poltergeist on his multicolored sleeve. While alarmed initially, the amortal being seemed to think it funny afterwards, and appreciated the effort Adam had put into his prank. 

He learned quite a bit from Peeves, who liked to brag about the misdeeds he’d either done or seen. Specifically, he learned about a corridor off the third floor that held a certain place in three little Gryffindor hearts. When April was dawning around the corner, Adam grabbed Hermione as she descended the staircase and pulled her aside.

“Quince! I’ve got a lot of work to do-”

“Granger,” Adam greeted patiently. “I’ll let you go in a second but first I have a question.”

Ever the know-it-all, she straightened up at once. Finally, a chance to prove she knew something he didn’t.  _ Ha, as if. _ “What?”

“Do you know what’s through that door over there?” he pointed to the heavy wooden door at the end of the hall, watching her eyes widen. “Because I could’ve sworn I heard yelling from the other side. But I don’t know the castle as well as you-” he shrugged sheepishly. “-so maybe it’s just a room that yells..?” he trailed off, as Hermione was already marching across the hall towards the door.

“ _ Alohamora! _ ” she wrapped her wand upon the knocker, which unlocked and the door swung inward. They both gazed into the dark interior hesitantly, until Adam pushed her inside, that is. 

“Come on then!”

“What are you doing-!?” Hermione stumbled inside, and Adam lit the torches inside with a flick of his wand, and sealed the door shut with another. The room, which was large enough to contain a two, possibly three-headed dog, was already playing host to three rather unhappy people. Malfoy and Nott blinked in the sudden light, then glared at Adam mutinously. Lian only yawned. Adam still thought she looked strange with short hair. 

Hermione looked bewildered. “Wait, what’s going on?” She reaches for her wand, only to discover that it was gone. “How-?”

“You can have it back,” Adam announced patiently. “When we’re done.”

“It’s last year all over again,” Malfoy grumbled. 

“You took mine first,” Lian’s reply was clipped, just like her hair. “All I’m saying.”

“Is stealing wands a popular activity at your school?” Nott demanded, aiming the question at Adam. 

“Teachers take them away when someone’s being disruptive—but that’s not the point.” Adam sat on the floor, indicating that the four of them should do likewise. Lian rolled her eyes first but complied, as did Hermione. The other guys were content to keep standing as they glared. Adam noticed they’d locked their knees, and couldn’t wait for that plan to backfire. “I don’t know what you three are up to,” he pointed at each Slytherin, “but even a blind man could see that whatever’s going on, you’re all in  _ way _ over your heads.”

Hermione glanced at Nott, who looked at Malfoy who looked over at Lian. She was giving Adam a warning look, or it could’ve been a simple glare.  _ Either way.  _ “It’s none of your business.”

“I know, but the three of you all share the same scent of desperation and it’s driving me insane. So fix it or at least let me help.”

“Why’d you drag Granger here?” Malfoy asked abruptly. 

“I’ve been wondering that as well-“ Hermione added fairly. 

“That night when Lian freaked out—you involved her, so I figured she was in on it somehow.” Adam explained, gathering from their collective expressions that that wasn’t the case. “Or not. But all four of you refused to tell me individually,” he gave a particularly rueful glance at Hermione, who had used a restraining spell on him the last time he’d asked her anything. 

“Because again,” Nott spoke up. “It is none of your business.” 

Adam sighed, and noticed Lian tensing ever so slightly. She knew what he was about to do, and there was very little she could do to stop him. 

“Look, I didn’t want to have to do this, but you leave me no choice. Either you tell me what’s going on—the truth please, I’ll know the difference—or I’ll ask your peers.” The threat seemed empty, he knew, but it would click in a minute. 

“They’d be useless; they don’t know anything,” scoffed Malfoy. “Clearly you don’t understand how to gain what you want.”

“Guys-“ Lian coughed, but Malfoy was on a roll. 

“I mean, you’re a werewolf—your true intimidation lies underneath, oh I don’t know, a full moon, perhaps? This would’ve been slightly more fruitful for you if any of us were afraid of what you could do but-“

“He wouldn’t dare attack us as a wolf!” Hermione snapped. “He’d get expelled!”

“Guys-“ Lian tried again. 

“Is that what your worst fear is, Granger?” Malfoy asked mockingly. “There are more important things than school, you know.”

“I’m aware, Malfoy!”

“GUYS!” Lian snapped her silver fingers—creating a weird spark between the metal tips. Malfoy and Hermione looked around at her. Nott continued to glare at Adam, who wore a benign smile. “Yes, our housemates don’t know anything. But all it would take is planting the seed of suspicion, especially in Slytherin House. And as for Hermione—I imagine Harry and Ron won’t be too tickled to learn you’ve been spending time with us.” 

“Well, maybe not them-“ Hermione pointed at the snake boys. “But they like you-“

“They  _ did _ . I haven’t spoken to Ron once since term began and Harry’s only heard complaints about the discontinuation of the DA.” She rolled her eyes. “He won’t get information, but he knows enough to turn people on us, and then everyone will want to know.” Lian’s blazing stare finally met Adam’s calm, hazel one. “And our advantage lies in our anonymity.” 

Adam gave her a slight bow. “You know me too well, m’dear.” 

The British people in the room were giving him flabbergasted expressions.  _ Ha.  _ “I said it in the first week; I never give up.”

“Brilliant. I suppose we’ll have to kill you-“ said Nott, almost too quickly.

“No you won’t!” Hermione, wandless and determined, jumped in front of Adam to defend him from the snakes in the room. “Just tell him the truth!”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you, Granger,” Malfoy sneered. “You’re just as nosy as he is-”

“This isn’t being nosy, this is caring and trying to help-” Adam snapped. “I understand you and Nott not having a lot of experience with that, but-” There was a strange fizzing followed by a loud CRACK! Adam, Hermione, Malfoy and Nott were knocked back a few inches, leaving Lian, who had moved to stand in the midst of them, remained put. She’d snapped her silver fingers again, but this time the reaction had been a bit more intense. Taking a deep breath, she held up Adam’s wand-- _ Wait, when did she take that?! _ \--and pointed it at each of them in turn.

“Congratulations. I have reached a point where I don’t care what you know, and what you don’t know. As someone who has kept secrets for twelve years now--that is impressive.” Her voice was soft, but not the gentle, warm, comforting kind of soft. Adam had only heard this cloth-wiping-the-blood-off-the-edge-of-a-blade-soft tone once before. He was seized with a sudden desire to never know anything ever again, and he could tell by the looks on everyone else’s face that they felt the same. He had to remind himself that this was because of her Legilimency--she could inflict emotion just as easily as she could absorb it. Which only made him realize that by calling her out, he’d trespassed on something private, possibly something dangerous. But it was too late to turn back. 

“So. . .here’s the thing. I’ll tell you something marvelous, but in return neither of you are to breathe a word, think a thought, or reveal an idea to  _ anyone. _ But your curiosity will be satisfied, at least.”

“Lian, you swore-” Nott began but she pointed Adam’s wand at him.

“Your business is your business, and not mine to reveal. But you and Malfoy are incredibly thick when it comes to seeing the bigger picture; something that can exist outside of your world.” She lowered the wand and gazed around at them again, steeling herself. Then she shrugged, pointing his wand to her temple. “Honestly, it’d be easier to just show you.”

There was a flash of silvery-blue something, almost like a patronus. Adam blinked as the room they were standing in transformed into a memory. Everything in it was either ghost-like or ethereal-looking, and it transformed the large, empty space into a cozy bedroom. What looked like a destroyed pillow fort littered the floor, along with a few toys and a particularly alarmed demiguise. It looked like Diggle, but bigger, older. On the floor, throwing anything he could lift over his bobble-head, was a toddler with bright blue eyes. A pillow flew through Hermione’s hair, and landed squarely on the toddler, who shrieked and landed on his bottom. 

“Direct hit!” a small voice cried victoriously. Adam’s attention was drawn to the two translucent children peeking over the side of the top of a bunk bed. The girl’s hair was only slightly longer, and pulled into pigtails, while the boy’s hair fell in his face. “Take that Godzilla!”

“I thought he was King Kong today,” the girl paused as she reached for another pillow. 

“He’s whatever his diaper smells like,” the boy replied, miming a vomit over the side of the bed. “Fire at will, Julie!”

“Aye-Aye Ollie!” little Julianne fired another missile at her baby brother, which was intercepted by the demiguise, who then shook his head disapprovingly at the twins on the bunk. “Aw, come on Dougal!”

A woman entered the memory, Adam recognized her as Lian’s mother, though with a slightly swollen stomach. “What have I told you two about ganging up on Jacob?”

“That we’re not supposed to?” Ollie replied lightly.

“Yes!” Amaya took a moment to calm her still-youngest, soon-to-be middle child. “Now that we’ve established you know better--get down here and apologize!”

“Ma-am, he’s a baby, he won’t remember!” Julianne complained. 

“Julianne Queenie get down NOW,” said Amaya with a note of finality that only mother’s can manage. She watched with a familiar fire in her gaze as the twins climbed down and approached Jacob, who whimpered as they did so. 

“Sorry Jacob,” they said, wrapping their clumsy arms around him. Then they looked up at Amaya to be sure that they were out of trouble.

“S’oakie.” Jacob replied softly. Adam wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be  _ It’s okay _ , or a gentle threat that he’d soak them later. 

“Kids, when your new baby sibling arrives, you’re going to have to look out for Jacob while Daddy and I take care of him or her.” Amaya ran her hands through Ollie’s hair, trying to groom him a little in the process. “I’m going to need both of you to help me, okay?”

The twins exchanged a look. “Baby said it best,” Julianne announced. “Soakie.”

“Yeah. Don’t you worry bout a thing, Mama,” Ollie added, failing to hide the grin on his face. Julianne danced in place to a tune nobody could hear, giggling. 

The scene shifted, and Lian, who still held the wand to her temple, her eyes tightly shut, said, “A few months later. . .”

The silvery-blue stuff settled as a staircase, whereupon little Julianne and Jacob perched, listening to the adults speaking in the hallway below. Adam spotted Amaya hovering beside her husband, who was speaking to an official from MACUSA. 

“I’m afraid we’ve done everything we can, sir, but there’s nothing more we can do…”

“So that’s it?” Mr. Kowalski said acidly. On the staircase, Julianne and Jacob flinched, clutching one another. “You’re just going to give up? You blind dunce, don’t you understand that IT'S MY SON! IF IT WERE YOUR SON I DOUBT YOU’D GIVE UP SO EASILY!”

“Sir, please, we understand how you and your wife must be feeling, but-”

“YOU HAVE MAGIC! FIX THIS!” Mr. Kowalski snapped. 

“Why’s he mad?” Jacob whispered to Julianne, staring through the banister fearfully. “Did the government do something wrong?”

Julianne opened her mouth to answer, failed, and just hugged Jacob closer. Her mouth trembled as she looked up at the family portrait on the wall. The painted Ollie had descended to the frame, trying to reach his siblings, his expression scared and full of sorrow. 

“Soakie, Jules,” Jacob said in a muffled voice, as his sister’s tears fell on him. “Gonna be soakie. . .”

Lian lifted the enchantment, lowering Adam’s wand as the ghostly images faded from existence. “My parents told Jacob and I that Oliver was killed in an accident, but I found out halfway through my first year at Ilvermorny that was a lie. Everything I’ve done since that moment has been directed towards uncovering the truth, the whole story. I know he’s alive, I’m just not sure. . .” she sniffed, and it was then that Adam saw the wetness contained behind her eyelashes. “ _ When _ he’s alive.” She cleared her throat. “I stopped being a kid when I was seven years old. My sister and I share a gift with our Grandmother, that allows us to shall we say-”  _ Oh my word she’s going to tell them she’s a Legilimens!  _ “-perfectly empathize with others.”  _ Or not. _ “E-everything my mother was feeling about my brother’s disappearance, I took on. I realize that none of you can possibly understand what it means to have a maternal instinct, but think for a moment how a mother can love. How deeply, and endlessly, and how much they will surrender in order to protect their children...and then imagine it was ripped away from them in a heartbeat, and out of their control. That is how my mother feels, and is what I feel; but I don’t have a family, a community of my own to take care of--so I had a unique opportunity to focus on finding my brother.”

“So. . .” Hermione dared to speak after Lian paused. Adam was at a total loss. “You know where he is?”

“Not exactly. I know where he was, and when he was--” she fished a small silver hourglass from her pocket. “That’s where this comes in. Once it’s fixed, I’m going to save him.”

“But, you’d change your own timeline!” said Hermione cautiously. “You might’ve never come to Hogwarts, or something much worse. . .are you willing to risk that?”

“I only came to Hogwarts because I was promised answers,” Lian replied indifferently.

“But. . .all last year you wouldn’t shut up about how Hogwarts offers a better education-” Hermione tried again, though even Adam-who hadn’t been present the previous year-knew her argument was weak.

“Hogwarts offers a Care of Magical Creatures class, which American wizardkind could use; but otherwise, I lied.” The reply was blunt. “Coming to Hogwarts actually made my education a year slower, and not even over grades, but because of politics.”

“Well that’s a relief,” Adam said, trying to lighten the mood and failing miserably. “And here I thought I was missing something.”

“So, you’re going to change your history?” Nott asked abruptly.

Lian turned to face him, her expression unapologetic. “If you had the ability, you’d do the same.”

“Not if it meant…” he trailed off, aware that his words were not private, but Adam knew instantly what Nott had intended to say. ‘Not if it meant losing you.’  _ Paws off, I saw her first. _ Personally, Adam wanted to object in part because of the danger that would come with this task, but he also knew that one small change in her past wouldn’t prevent them from meeting at school. Afterall, Lian was his soulmate. Destined for forever and all that crap. 

“Satisfied?” Lian asked at large, apparently eager to end sharing time.

“One question,” Malfoy said. “Who is Roman?”

“I honestly have no idea.” Lian sounded defeated at that. Hermione, on the other hand, was fit to burst.

“I’m only going to say this once. HORRIBLE THINGS HAPPEN WHEN WIZARDS MEDDLE WITH TIME.” Adam jumped as the Gryffindor princess exploded. She might have felt very passionate about using a Time-Turner, at least that was the vibe Adam was receiving. “You’d be breaking one of the most important wizarding laws! Nobody’s supposed to change time! Look, I’m sorry that you lost a member of your family but I can’t allow you to-” Hermione fell off her figurative high horse because Lian knocked her to the floor. Nott and Malfoy grabbed an arm each and held her back from doing anything else, while Hermione jumped back to her feet. 

“You’re a hypocrite, Hermione, don’t get all sanctimonious with me.” Lian sneered. 

Adam anticipated a sharp retort from Hermione, but none came. As usual, Lian knew exactly what to say. After a pause she tried to recover some ground. “I mean to say. . .that going back in time for your own, personal pursuit, could have consequences beyond your imaginings.”

“I would argue that it’s worth the risk,” Lian replied in a surprisingly diplomatic tone. “But I don’t need your approval. I only need your sworn silence.”

Hermione drew herself up to her full height--which, given the present company, wasn’t terribly impressive. “Then, I’m sorry. I can’t give it.”

“That’s too bad.” Lian said calmly. “I thought I could trust you.”

“You can trust me to do the right thing, regardless of whether or not it gains your favor,” said Hermione shrewdly. 

“Yeah, well. . .you are a Gryffindor. I wouldn’t expect anything less,” she raised Adam’s wand, pointing it at Hermione’s forehead. “Hold still.”

“Hold on,” Malfoy forced Lian to put her arm down. “It doesn’t have to come to that.”

“You heard her yourself, she doesn’t intend to keep her mouth shut!”

“Maybe because you haven’t given her proper motivation to do so,” Malfoy countered. 

“Any ideas?”

“I believe I deserve a say in this!” Hermione insisted.

“Hush,” Malfoy said. “What if, say, we offered her something in return for her silence?”

“I will not be bought!” 

“What did you have in mind?” Lian asked, eying the blond appraisingly.  

“Well, if I’m half as observant as Inspector Nott over here,” Malfoy began, ignoring Hermione’s grunts of indignation, “-I believe I’d be correct in taking into account that Granger’s been nothing short of neglected the past year.”

“I have not!”

“And that helps me because..?”

Malfoy shrugged. “In truth, she has no quarrel with you; her frustration and self-righteous behaviour are indicative of resentment that have been built up by some other source. Namely, Potty and the Weasel.” Hermione released a puff of air, attempting to sound derisive, but really just sounded tired. “I’m sure there’s a type of arrangement we can come to.”

Lian rolled her eyes. “She’s too loyal for that.”

“Loyalty is something earned,” Nott put in. “And it’s not like they’ve been very deserving of hers as of late.”

“He’s not wrong,” Adam murmured, earning an angry glance from Hermione. 

“Yes he is! You all are! You can’t coerce me into complying with your plans by threatening my friends!” Hermione stamped her foot to communicate her frustration with all of them. “Quince! Give me back my wand!”

“Hermione, forget about the ethics and morality of the situation for a minute,” Lian said loudly. “My protecting my brother and saving my family won’t affect you in the least!”

“But it’ll affect you!” the Gryffindor replied. “And you refuse to think that through!”

Any argument that Lian was ready to fire back, it would have to wait. The door that led to the hall and staircase beyond flew open, along with the demand, “Just what is going on in here?” 

Many things happened at once. Lian twitched Adam’s wand in Hermione’s direction, Malfoy moved to stand in front of her to hide the action, and Nott replied, “We were debating whether or not there was a patch of Devil’s Snare still thriving beneath the trapdoor.”

Adam glanced from Professor McGonagall to the wooden square in the middle of the room he’d only just noticed. “Yeah. I said we should just push Nott down there and he could end the matter once and for all, but he’s scared of falling.” That remark earned him a cuff on the shoulder.

“Out!” The deputy headmistress commanded. The five of them trekked out under her stern gaze. Hermione, Adam noticed, looked a little bewildered and remained silent. He prayed Lian hadn’t modified her memory, but after everything she had revealed, he found her to be more unpredictable than he’d previously imagined.

She was dangerous. Mostly to herself, given her plans to change her whole life. He couldn’t be sure what Malfoy or Nott made of the admission, but a part of him agreed with Hermione. 

Now, he just had to find a way to stop her.  _ Oh boy. _


	18. The Horcrux Fad

Draco and Theo gave her a wide berth for the next few days, not that she minded. Hermione, while her memory was very much intact, had yet to report her to an authority figure but it was only a matter of time. When McGonagall interrupted them that night, Lian used the first three spells that jumped to her head,  _ Silencio, Confundo,  _ and later, the counterspell for  _ Silencio. _ Adam hadn’t spoken to her either, but she sensed his concerns and objections like an itch she couldn’t quite reach. 

When she received a summons to the headmaster's office, she knew Hermione had blown the whistle. Upon locating the gargoyle and giving the password, (“ _ Cockroach Cluster! _ ”) she debated the wisdom in pulling a Weasley and abandoning the school on broomstick. Inevitably she climbed the spiral staircase, only because she remembered Roman’s cryptic warning, and that if she was going to get expelled she might as well go down swinging. 

She knocked upon the office door, and heard a soft, “Come in,” on the other side. Pushing it inward, she stepped into the most magnificent room she’d seen in the castle thus far—excluding the kitchen. From the portraits of old people along the walls to the many ornaments and magical tools, ancient books and enchantments—it was fantastic. 

Dumbledore was standing over the same stone basin she’d seen in Snape’s office last year. He looked up as she closed the door behind her, gazing steadily over his glasses. “Thank you for coming so promptly, Ms. Kowalski,” he said in a rather formal way. This only proved in Lian’s mind that he was about to formally, officially invite her to leave his school. “I’m afraid there isn’t much time. Have a seat,” he gestured to the chair likely meant for guests. “I am aware of your abilities, Ms. Kowalski and they are many; but I seek your aid and use in one particular instance.”

“Sir?” Lian prompted cautiously. This didn’t sound like an expulsion speech. 

“I need a very specific memory from my colleague, Professor Slughorn. I believe you are the only one in my school capable of extracting it.” Dumbledore went on, oblivious to her hesitancy. “And I need you to obtain it by weeks end.”

“O-kay…” she replied slowly. “What’s the specification?”

“A time in his life where—“ Dumbledore broke off, his piercing eyes sweeping over her. “Understand, Ms. Kowalski, that I ask for this to be done discreetly and swiftly for a purpose. What you might see or hear must never be repeated outside the confines of this office, even to Professor Slughorn himself.” 

_ Huh. Sounds familiar.  _ “I understand. I’m good at keeping secrets.”

“I don’t doubt it,” the headmaster said with a nod. “Well then, you must search for a time in Horace’s life when he explained what a Horcrux is.”

“Alright. What can I expect in return?” The words escaped her lips before she could bite down on them. “I mean—that didn’t come out right.”

To her surprise, Dumbledore chortled. “I would have been disappointed in our Sorting Hat if you hadn’t said something of that caliber. What can I offer you?” 

_ Your mind,  _ some small, yet totally insane part of her whispered. “Straight-forward honesty. I don’t  _ do _ your mind games.” 

The headmaster considered her for a moment, and then agreed. “As you wish, but only after you retrieve that memory.” 

“Consider it done.” 

* * *

Care of Magical Creatures was always a bit of a wild card. That’s what made it fun in Lian’s mind. Between studying erumpents and writing long essays on dragon care, Hagrid would occasionally assign meal preparation for his friend, Aragog. When she’d first heard the name, Lian assumed it was a wizard, but then she’d mashed up a serving of dead spiders, and she had to ask.

Reluctantly, Hagrid admitted that Aragog was in fact a giant arcomantula he had kept in the forest for many years. Lian learned a great deal about him and his colony over the past few months, but the following Friday, Hagrid came to her with the bad news that Aragog had passed away the previous evening. 

_ That explains the corpse, _ she thought, glancing around the cabin where she thought she’d spotted something large and hairy upon initial approach. “Oh no, Hagrid—I’m so sorry!”

The enormous man sniffed noisily, pulling out a flowery table cloth to dab at his leaking eyes. “I-I can’ go through with yer lesson...not today...I’ve got to dig his grave…” 

“I understand. Do you want help?” She offered, but Hagrid was already shaking his head. “You shouldn’t go through this alone.”

“Come back tonight,” he said. “I want ‘im ter have a proper funeral.” At that point, the reality of the spiders death seemed to crash over him all over again and he dissolved into a howling mess. 

Hagrids anguish gave her a free period, so after assuring Hagrid that she would come back, she returned to the castle. 

Her feet started to carry her to the Slytherin common room, but changed course and opted for the library instead. 

She’d checked the school records a million times before, but never had any success. When she’d been told that Hogwarts held her answer, she assumed that somehow, her brother had turned up here, and maybe not by his own name—but she thought she’d be able to recognize him via picture. No such luck. He was her twin sure, but maybe his hair had grown darker through the years—less exposure to sun, than herself perhaps. She’d changed her hair to help give her a visually better idea of what he might look like—which might have worked if she had been younger. With her eighteenth birthday looming so close, all she saw when she looked in the mirror was a young woman. 

Maybe he’d grown up to look like uncle Anatoly, or their father; both very different men. Anatoly always seemed to find his answers at the bottom of some bottle, but Lian found it very difficult to fault him for that particular habit, for if he hadn’t been so loose when it came to his mind she would never have unearthed the truth about… _ Wait a second _ . 

She had an idea. Many things could go wrong, but she had to at least try. 

Having just reached the library, she turned on her heel and marched back down the corridor. Her next class was due to start soon in any case. 

During Potions class Lian worked with her head down, under the pretense of wanting to do well on her Pepper-up concoction. She’d made a point of sitting at the end of the table beside Blaise, though a small, ignored part of her missed sitting between Draco and Theo. If anything, she trusted them the most to not say anything to persons of authority—not after what she knew about them. 

That was the nice thing about having allies versus friends. Friends could be messy, and overly dramatic, and had a horrible habit of trying to tell you what to do. An ally’s job was simple, the lines were drawn and expectations set. Plus, she generally kept allies longer than she kept friends. 

As soon as the bell rang, everyone else in the dungeon room began to gather their things and clean up their workstations. Lian took her time, keeping an eye on her target. 

“Macmillan?” She called, causing the Hufflepuff prefect to hang back. 

“Yes?”

Lian walked over to him as though on the verge of confiding a rather important secret. “Do you know if the house elves keep brandy in the kitchens?” She asked in a low, yet purposefully carrying whisper as Ron swung his bag over his shoulder and exited the classroom. 

Ernie shrugged unhelpfully, frowning at her as though she was insane. “How would I know?” He then left, his nose a degree higher in the air than usual. 

“Ms. Kowalski? Why on earth should you need brandy?” Slughorn asked abruptly, walking forward from his desk. 

Lian acted astonished. “Oh, it’s not for me, sir,” she declared, placing a hand on her chest.  _ Time for the bait. _ “It’s for Hagrid. He’s in a terrible state, and I only thought it could help numb the pain.” 

“What happened to him?” Slughorn asked, sounding hesitant but also concerned. “Did one of his creatures attack him?” 

“No sir,” Lian shook her head solemnly. “Just about the opposite. His giant spider, Aragog, just passed away. He’s had him for years, and now he’s gone… he was so upset and I only wanted to help him in some small way…”

Slughorn took on a very serious expression, thinking hard. “What does he plan to do with the body?”

“Oh, well,” Lian hesitated just long enough to set the hook. “He wants to give it a proper funeral, you see, tonight...he wants me to be there because he’s not sure he can do it alone…” she glanced at her feet, then back up at Slughorn, feigning guilt with her eyes. “...you won’t tell anyone, will you? I don’t want him to get into trouble…”

She waited while he considered the possibility. His mind raced, and practically shouted for her to hear,  _ An acromantula? If it’s recently passed, it’s venom should still be useable. I could make a small fortune! _

_ Yes. Follow the line. _ She held her tongue, maintaining a guilty and anxious facade. At long last, Slughorn nodded. “Not to worry, Ms. Kowalski, Hagrids secret is safe with me. I wonder whether it’s appropriate that I should come and pay my respects. No man should drink alone…” 

“I think Hagrid would like that very much, sir.” Lian said amicably.  _ Hook. Line and sinker.  _

* * *

“Yeh came,” croaked Hagrid, when he opened the door and saw  her standing there. Lian  patted him consolingly on the elbow, which was the highest point of Hagrid s he could easily reach.

“Where are we burying him?” she asked. “The forest?”

“Blimey, no,” said Hagrid, wiping his streaming eyes on the bottom of his shirt. “The other spiders won’ let me anywhere near their webs now Aragog’s gone. Turns out it was on’y on his orders they didn’ eat me! Can yeh believe that?”

_ Giant man-eating acromantulas wanting to eat a half-man, half-giant? No way! _ Lian shrugged mutely, figuring her best course of action was to remain as silent as possible tonight. 

“Never bin an area o’ the forest I couldn’ go before!” said Hagrid, shaking his head. “It wasn’ easy, gettin’ Aragog’s body out o’ there, I can tell yeh--they usually eat their dead, see. . . But I wanted ter give ‘im a nice burial. . . a proper send-off. . .”

He broke into sobs again and  Lian resumed the patting of his elbow,  deciding it was a prime time to mention, “Professor Slughorn’s going to be joining us this evening. I was speaking to him after class and mentioned your loss. He wanted to pay his respects.”

Hagrid furrowed his brow as she explained, but seemed relieved that she had not gotten into any trouble. “Does he?  Tha’s--tha’s right nice of him, that is, an’ not  givin’ yeh detention neither.  I’ve never really had a lot ter do with Horace Slughorn before. . . .Comin’ ter see old Aragog off, though, eh? Well. . . he’d’ve liked that, Aragog would. . . “

Lian  thought privately that what Aragog would have liked most about Slughorn was the ample amount of edible flesh he provided, but she merely moved to the rear window of Hagrid’s hut, where he saw the rather horrible sight of the enormous dead spider lying on its back outside, its legs curled and tangled. _ I should’ve invited Uncle Newt. . . _ Lian thought ruefully.  _ This sort of thing is right up his alley. _

There was a knock on the door, and Hagrid answered it, blowing his nose on his great spotted handkerchief as he did so. Slughorn hurried over the threshold, several bottles in his arms, and wearing a somber black cravat. “Hagrid,” he said, in a deep, grave voice. “So very sorry to hear of your loss.”

“Tha’s very nice of yeh,” said Hagrid. “Thanks a lot.” He sniffed loudly. “Shall we--shall we do it, then?”

The three of them stepped out into the back garden. The moon was glistening palely through the trees now, and its rays mingled with the light spilling from Hagrid’s windows to illuminate Aragog’s body lying on the edge of a massive pit beside a ten-foot-high mound of freshly dug earth. 

Slughorn approached the body of the dead spider and praised it, allowing him to bond with Hagrid a bit. Lian hung back and watched the funeral service that Slughorn volunteered for, since Hagrid was close to becoming a small lake from crying so much. A short while later, Hagrid shoved the spider’s carcass unceremoniously into the pit, while Slughorn used magic to fill it back up with soil. Then she and Slughorn were tasked with dragging Hagrid back inside his own cabin, and all Lian had to do was wait.

Sure enough, Slughorn began pouring out mugs of elf-made wine and proposed a toast.  “To Aragog.”

“Aragog,” said  Lian  and Hagrid together. The professors drank deeply.  Lian discreetly swapped her mug for an empty one, placing the beverage-filled one upon the floor where Fang could finish it for her.  _ That’s one definition of  ‘drinking under the table’. _

“I had him from an egg, yeh know,” said Hagrid morosely. “Tiny little thing he was when he hatched. ‘Bout the size of a Pekingese.”

“Sweet,” said Slughorn.

“Used ter keep him in a cupboard up at the school until. . .well. . .” Hagrid’s face darkened,  and while Lian sensed a deeper story to uncover beneath his frown, she had a real mission to fulfill. She watched patiently while Slughorn and Hagrid chatted about the different, rare ingredients Hagrid had collected and kept in his hut. Time and again, they would drink, refill their mugs, and drink again. Slughorn, clearly on a warpath to personal gain, used flattering words and loads of liquor to raise Hagrid’s spirits and lower his sensibilities. Lian didn’t mind, so long as Slughorn drank almost as much. From the looks of the gradually emptying bottles, she didn’t need to worry.  _ It’ll be like stealing candy from a very sleepy baby. Better refill them, though, just in case _ . This she accomplished with a flick of her wand. 

After an hour or so, Hagrid and Slughorn began making extravagant toasts: to Hogwarts, to Dumbledore, to elf-made wine, and to-- “Harry Potter!” bellowed Hagrid, slopping some of his fourteenth bucket of wine down his chin as he drained it.

“Yes, indeed,” cried Slughorn a little thickly, “Parry Otter, the Chosen Boy Who--well--something of that sort,” he mumbled, and drained his mug too. 

And for a while after that, Hagrid and Slughorn were sitting side by side, arms around each other, singing a slow sad song about a dying wizard called Odo the hero.

As Hagrid swayed dangerously, whether to fall forward to the table or sideways onto Slughorn, gravity had yet to decide--Lian decided now was as good a chance as any. He was wide open. 

Pretending to rest her head on the corner of the table, she closed her eyes, and lowered her mental walls.  _ Fire torpedo! _

At first, all sorts of memories jumped and bounced out at her conscious stream, some from Hagrid and others from Slughorn, and some she was seventy percent certain belonged to Fang. Discerning between the jumble became incredibly easier when Hagrid passed out. She could still hear Slughorn singing to himself about Odo the hero, though at this point he seemed to be making up his own verses.

At long length she snatched something that had to do with  _ Horcruxes _ , whatever those were. Lian watched the scene unfold before her, her eyes sharp and mind keen. 

There was a much younger Slughorn, with thick, shiny, straw-colored hair and his gingery-blond mustache, sitting in a comfortable winged armchair in his office, his feet resting upon a velvet pouffe, a small glass of wine in one hand, the other rummaging in a box of crystallized pineapple. Surrounding him were half a dozen teenage boys, one very handsome boy in their midst. He wore a gold-and-black ring on his finger.  Lian watched, enchanted, as the proud-looking young man began to speak.  “Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?”

“Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn’t tell you,” said Slughorn, wagging his finger reprovingly at him, though winking at the same time. “I must say, I’d like to know where you get your information, boy, more knowledgeable than half the staff, you are.”

The handsome young man smiled; the other boys laughed and cast him admiring looks.  Privately, Lian thought that the best way to learn information you weren’t supposed to be aware of was by way of Legilimency. ... _ Oh.  _

“What with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn’t, and your careful flattery of the people who matter--thank you for the pineapple, by the way, you’re quite right, it is my favorite--” Several of the boys tittered again. “--I confidently expect you to rise to Minister of Magic within twenty years. Fifteen, if you keep sending me pineapple, I have  _ excellent _ contacts at the Ministry.”

The boy, Tom, merely smiled as the others laughed again. “I don’t know that politics would suit me, sir,” he said. “I don’t have the right kind of background, for one thing.”

“Nonsense,” said Slughorn briskly, “couldn’t be plainer you come from decent Wizarding stock, abilities like yours. No, you’ll go far, Tom, I’ve never been wrong about a student yet.”

The small golden clock standing upon Slughorn’s desk chimed eleven o’clock behind him and he looked around. “Good gracious, is it that time already? You’d better get going, boys, or we’ll all be in trouble. Lestrange,”  Lian twitched unpleasantly.  “I want your essay by tomorrow or it’s detention. Same goes for you, Avery.”

One by one, the boys filed out of the room. Slughorn heaved himself out of his armchair and carried his empty glass over to his desk. A movement behind him made him look around; Riddle was still standing there.

“Look sharp, Tom, you don’t want to be caught out of bed out of hours, and you a prefect...”

“Sir, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Ask away, then, m’boy, ask away. . . “

“Sir, I wondered what you know about. . .about Horcruxes?”

Slughorn stared at him, his thick fingers absentmindedly caressing the stern of his wine glass. “Project for Defense Against the Dark Arts, is it?” But Lian could tell that Slughorn knew perfectly well that this was not schoolwork.

“Not exactly, sir,” said Tom. “I came across the term while reading and I didn’t fully understand it.”

“No. . .well. . .you’d be hard-pushed to find a book at Hogwarts that’ll give you details on Horcruxes, Tom, that’s very Dark stuff, very Dark indeed,” said Slughorn.

“But you obviously know all about them, sir? I mean, a wizard like you--sorry, I mean, if you can’t tell me , obviously--I just knew if anyone could tell me, you could--so I just thought I’d ask--”

_ And I thought I was manipulative. This guys’ a pro!  _ Lian studied Tom’s face.  _ Who are you? _ But she only had access to him through Slughorn’s memory at this point in life. He was an excellent, ambitious student that was something of a snake charmer.

“Well,” said Slughorn, not looking at Tom, but fiddling with the ribbon on top of his box of crystalized pineapple, “well, it can’t hurt to give you an overview, of course. Just so that you understand the term. A Horcrux is the word used for an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul.”

“I don’t quite understand how that works, though, sir,” said Tom. His voice was carefully controlled, but Lian could sense his excitement.

“Well, you split your soul, you see,” said Slughorn, “and hide part of it in an object outside the body. Then, even if one’s body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged. But of course, existence in such a form. . .” Slughorn’s face crumpled. “. . .few would want it, Tom, very few. Death would be preferable.”

“How do you split your soul?” 

“Well, you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it is an act of violation, it is against nature.”

“But how do you do it?”

“By an act of evil--the supreme act of evil. By committing murder. Killing rips the soul apart. The wizard intent upon creating a Horcrux would use the damage to his advantage: He would encase the torn portion--”

“Encase? But how--”

“There is a spell, do not ask me, I don’t know!” said Slughorn, shaking his head. “Do I look as though I have tried it--do I look like a killer?”

“No, sir, of course not,” said Tom quickly. “I’m sorry. . .I didn’t mean to offend. . .”

“Not at all, not at all, not offended,” said Slughorn gruffly. “It’s natural to feel some curiosity about these things. . . Wizards of a certain caliber have always been drawn to that aspect of magic. . .”

“Yes, sir,” said Tom. “What I don’t understand, though--just out of curiosity--I mean, would one Horcrux be much use? Can you only split your soul once? Wouldn’t it be better, make you stronger, to have your soul in more pieces, I mean, for instance, isn’t seven the most powerfully magical number, wouldn’t seven--?”

“Merlin’s beard, Tom!” yelped Slughorn. “Seven! Isn’t it bad enough to divide the soul. . .but to rip it into seven pieces. . .” He looked deeply troubled now: He was gazing at Tom as though he had never seen him plainly before, and Lian could tell that he was regretting entering into the conversation at all. “Of course,” he muttered, “this is all hypothetical, what we’re discussing, isn’t it? All academic…”

“Yes, sir, of course,” said Tom quickly. 

“But all the same, Tom. . . keep it quiet, what I’ve told--that’s to say, what we’ve discussed. People wouldn’t like to think we’ve been chatting about Horcruxes. It’s a banned subject at Hogwarts you know. . .Dumbledore’s particularly fierce about it. . .”

“I won’t say a word, sir,” said Tom, and he left, but not before  Lian caught a glimpse of his face. It was lit with a kind of mad joy she’d seen on pictures of people MACUSA searched for, making his handsome features melt away and reveal the inhumane side within. . .

Feeling exquisitely uncomfortable, Lian went to withdraw herself from Slughorns memories, but something held her in place, and she watched flashes of her professor's life flit past in quick fire succession before they finally came to rest at one. She was standing Slughorns office still, but it was obvious that many years had gone by. For one thing, the Slughorn she beheld now was midway between the straw-colored, full hair, to the balding old wizard he was in the present. He wasn’t hosting a party either, he was overseeing detention for two young men. Lian peered over the shoulder of one of the students to see what his lines were and read,  _ I will not sabotage potions class for my own amusement.  _ The other one was writing out,  _ I will speak with respect to others.  _

Despite the insinuation, both seemed to be rather mild in manner, for they wrote with purpose and diligence. One looked a little younger than the other, by one or two years maybe, but she couldn’t help but think they looked familiar. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say one of them was Sirius Black. 

Slughorn was sat at his desk, probably grading papers or ordering sugared fruits to adorn his appetite, but as he glanced at the small golden clock, Lian frowned as she watched an apparent replay of the first memory. 

“Good gracious, is that the time?” Slughorn asked rhetorically. “Well boys, lets see what you’ve accomplished.” 

The students rose to their feet, and Lian thought that the way they approached Slughorn spoke volumes about their characters. The younger boy rose gracefully to his feet, stalked the length of the room and offered his lines to Slughorn, looking bored. The older one stood with a sardonic little hop, strolled the length of the room and dropped his parchment on Slughorns desk carelessly. Then he spoke as though he hadn’t just spent the last however long in detention. 

“Professor, I had a question for you.” Lian knew that voice. Why did she know that voice? 

”Indeed?” Slughorn glanced down doubtfully at the dropped parchment with the words  _ I will speak with respect to others _ written over and over again. 

“Yes, sir, Professor Watercress was ranting during class yesterday and said something about Horcruxes. What are those?” 

Slughorn stiffened visibly, glancing from one boy to the next. “They are nothing to concern yourself with!” He hissed, very much out of character. “Both if you! You’re good boys—you needn’t worry yourself over Horcruxes, that is to say, I don’t know much about them myself, but I know enough to say that they are not worth your attention! Understood?”

The boys nodded mutely, but even Lian, who could only see the backs of their heads, knew that they weren’t satisfied. 

_ This Tom guy started a fad.  _ Lian forced her mental walls to rise again, shoving herself out of the present Slughorns mind. The corner of Hagrids table had made an impression on her forehead with a big red mark she was sure, but otherwise not much had changed. Slughorn had collapsed alongside Hagrid sometime while she had set to work, and she silently prayed that no one had looked through the window in the last few minutes.  _ What a sight _ . 

Tiptoeing past the slumbering men and the slightly dazed boar hound, Lian left the cabin as it was. She crossed the midnight covered grounds with ease, grateful to discover that the front doors were still unlocked. 

The first memory she owed to Dumbledore...but the second, she would keep to herself for now. At least until she could figure out why they looked familiar. 

 


	19. Soulmates

“For the last time, Quince, she’s fine! She just had an accident during Quidditch practice!” the girl with the upturned nose snapped. Adam had seen her hanging around Lian, and assumed correctly that she could explain why their mutual friend was not in DADA. 

“What kind of accident?” he pressed, wanting to be sure it was true. “What happened to her?”

The girl shrugged, rolling her eyes. “One of the bludgers knocked her arm off. She had to contact her aunt to reattach it, but she’ll probably be here-” the door opened and Lian walked through. “-Now.”

Adam had already crossed the room. Professor Snape had them clear the desks away to practice non-verbal jinxes of his choosing. It was a surprisingly light-hearted lesson considering all the dark stuff they had studied in the past year. As April slipped into May and the end-of-year exams loomed closer,  each and every teacher had applied the pressure even more than before. Snape probably thought two hours of hexing one another was a merciful break. Or it was for his own amusement. 

“You’re late, Ms. Kowalski,” he drawled as she headed towards the front of class where the majority of the Slytherins had assimilated. 

“I’m sorry, Professor,” she replied, holding up a note in her left hand. “I have a note from Madam Pomfrey.”

Snape took it with a nod, not taking away house points or anything. Adam went to tap Lian on the shoulder but she turned to face him instead. “Ready?”

Bewildered, Adam said, “For…?”

Lian gestured around at the rest of class as though the answer were obvious. “Everyone else is paired up, and it’s kind of unfair for us to duel others who are still learning.”

He cleared his throat. “Right. Of course...is your arm okay?” Her right arm was hidden beneath her robes and something seemed off. Lian was the type of person who talked with her hands, a habit she probably picked up from the entire Bianchi family, and she remained remarkably one-sided in the few moments he’d observed her. 

Lian withdrew her wand from her sock, something he found both impish and cute, and moved into the standard defensive position they taught at Ilvermorny. “My wand arm is just fine.”

“How do you do this?” he asked softly, raising his wand arm as well. “How can you pretend everything is fine?”

“Non-verbal means no talking, Mr. Quince,” Snape called from his desk. A few of the Slytherins sniggered, while Lian winked, before sending the first barrage of spells his way. The first hit, causing his whole skeleton to feel like it was melting. This used to be completely normal whenever he was around Lian, so he rolled with it and fired back a few jinxes of his own, including a transformative one, causing her to sprout wolf ears and a tail. She took a second to glance over her shoulder at the bushy black thing sticking out of her skirt, then replied in kind faster than he could blink. Only instead of attractive and flattering lupus features, she granted Adam the cheeks of a squirrel. 

_Oh that’s how it is, huh?_ _Steleus!_ Lian began to sneeze repeatedly, unable to aim her wand properly until she pointed it at herself and performed the counterjinx. She replied with the tickling hex, which Adam especially disliked because normally he wasn’t ticklish. Gasping for breath, he fired two complementing yet evil jinxes her way. _Colloshoo!_ _Tarantallegra!_ Lian’s shoes stuck fast to the floor, while her legs thrashed violently, determined to dance. Adam was vaguely aware that others around them had paused in their duels to watch, but he didn’t care much. This was the most he and Lian had interacted since Slughorn’s party. 

Lian hit him with a tempest jinx, which sent small strikes of lightning throughout his body, giving her time to release her legs from their wild pistons impression. Slipping out of her shoes, which had effectively melted to the floor, she pointed her wand at him, ready to go further when he disarmed her. Her wand flew into his other hand, which should have marked his winning the duel. 

Apparently, Lian had forgotten that rule. That, or she didn’t care either, that they were the only ones still fighting in the whole classroom. It was probably the use of the tempest jinx on a fellow classmate that did it. In anycase, Lian surged the last few steps remaining between herself and Adam, and proceeded to duel No-Maj style. It was like second year all over again. 

Adam tossed his and her wand over his shoulder and fought back for about ten seconds before the bell rang. Professor Snape called for a halt, though there was really no need, he merely had to separate the North Americans still trying to beat the other, which he did with a simple use of  _ Impedimenta! _

Lian and Adam froze in place; long enough for Snape to remove their transfigured parts, and separate them. “While your skills are impressive, perhaps the best time to kill one another is not during a Defense lesson. Detention for you both. My office, tomorrow at eight o’clock.” He lifted his gaze to glare around at the rest of his class. “What are you still standing around here for? Are you all deaf? Get out!”

Lian gathered her book bag, straightened her robes as though she tussled with a 6ft’7 werewolf everyday, and looked up at Adam from the corner of her eye. “Nice wand-work.” She then followed after the rest of the Slytherins, out into the corridor. 

Adam touched a hand to his jaw gingerly. It really had been like second year; she still had a mean left hook.

\---------------

On his way to study hall from lunch, Adam spotted Professor Lupin speaking to a woman with bubble-gum pink hair. With the full moon on the rise, Adam picked up something different about her scent marker, and ducked behind a suit of armor, dropping eaves all over the place as he focused his hearing on their conversation. 

“...just confirmed it. It was Greyback who attacked the Wilkes, killed the lot of them except for the mother...though I bet she wishes she was dead now…” the woman was saying in a low voice. 

“He’s becoming bolder in his strikes,” said Lupin in what was supposed to be a soft, human growl, but came out as a loud, wolfish snarl. “He’s not even trying to turn people—it’s just for his own sick pleasure.” 

“Of course it is,” the woman agreed. “He hasn’t the time to pick fights with all of them, not with his potential boss pounding on his back.” There was a tense pause between the two, and then the woman broke it with a subject change. “I think we’re supposed to patrol together this evening…”

“We are?” Lupin suddenly sounded nervous. From where he was hiding, Adam bit down a snigger. 

“Should we start with the grounds or dungeons?” There was a hint of teasing, or mischief— _ No...she’s flirting...I think. Maybe they’re both bad at this.  _

“To be honest, I don’t think we should start at all.” Lupin answered reluctantly. “I’ll arrange for Kingsley to take your pl-”

“No you ruddy well won’t!” the woman snapped. “And he won’t be taking yours either!” Her tone softened considerably. “Remus, you don’t have anything to worry about. I don’t care about your--” Adam poked his head out to watch the pink-haired witch make air quotes with her fingers. “--furry little problem. All I care about is you.”

_ Aww, cutest..! _ Adam wished he could run up and hug both of them, but he had a feeling that neither adult would appreciate the gesture so much. As inconspicuous as he could manage, he retracted his head back behind the suit of armor. (Which upon reflection, had to be suited for a troll or maybe a small giant for him to fit behind it.)

Remus made a small noise in his throat in response.  _ Tell her you care about her too, dummy. She’ll be thrilled, and then probably kiss you. It’s not that difficult. _ Adam paused a moment to reflect on his own challenges with Lian.  _ Okay, so it’s a little difficult.  _ Lost in his own thoughts, he didn’t hear the end of the adult conversation, but the next moment, the witch was marching away from the office, disappointment echoing in her every step. 

“Having fun, Mr. Quince?” Lupin called from his office door. 

_ Right. He’s a werewolf too so he can hear me breathe about as well as I can hear him fail at romance. _ “That’s not what I would call it,” he said resignedly, stepping out into the open. “Trouble with your mate?”

Lupin flinched at the question, though Adam didn’t fully understand why. “She’s not my--why would you use that word?”

“That’s what she is, isn’t she?” Adam replied with a shrug. “You don’t have to be embarrassed; when I’m home I’m surrounded by my siblings and their mates.”

“Stop saying that-!” Lupin waved him toward the office. “Get in here.”

Sauntering inside, Adam claimed one of the chairs, straddling the seat and resting his arms on the back. “Why are you so jumpy? At least your mate actually wants you.”

“She is not my mate!” Lupin shut the door quickly. “I am not some animal that can lay claim on another; a wild thing that marks its territory!”

If Adam had dog ears, they’d lie flat at that point in the conversation. “My mistake. You’re a normal human being with magical powers that  _ chooses _ to turn into a raging monster once or twice a month. Forgive my ignorance.”

“Mr. Quince--”

“You’re not my teacher, you can call me Adam,” he interjected. Mr. Quince sounded like his older brothers or his father.

“Very well. Am I to understand that you were raised to believe in mates?”

“Yeah.  _ Soulmates _ , if you prefer; but there’s one person out there for every werewolf, even the lesser, bitten ones, I assume from what I just witnessed.” Adam noticed Lupin grow a shade of green while he spoke. “You’ve really never considered this before?”

“That’s not the point here, what I’m curious about is how could you-”

“How could you not feel it? Don’t you get nudges from your wolf instincts? Whenever the moon’s in its 90th percentile the wolf starts going nuts, least mine does.” Adam pointed to Lupin with his chin. “Yours is probably frustrated with you for ignoring it all these years.”

“You keep going on about how you’re a born and not bitten,” Lupin said suddenly. “While you seem to have no issue with passing on the genes, I have every desire to prevent any innocent child suffering the kind of childhood I had because of the wolf!”

_ He knows nothing. _ “You know nothing about werewolves, do you?” Adam said bluntly. 

“I know well enough,” Lupin replied gruffly.

“Not really,” Adam insisted. “For starters, should you or I ever produce offspring, they won’t be werewolves. They might have heightened senses but that’s it.”

“I beg your pardon?”

_ Didn’t know that, did we? _ “Yeah. Only females pass on the gene--like my mother, she’s a werewolf, produced ten little werewolves and we’re all eagerly looking forward to when my three sisters decide to get started on their own packs.” Adam spoke matter-of-factly. “As for me and my six brothers, we’re not enough monster to bite our own. I don’t know about British werewolves but in North America, werewolves only bite to kill--we don’t actually want to infect normal people, but if cornered or threatened it’s handy. Or toothy, I guess.”

“You can’t be serious.”

_ Not intentionally. _ “Why are you so disgusted by the thought of werewolves breeding?” asked Adam, getting to the core of Lupin’s discomfort. “Everyone else does it. By default, sir, _ I _ disgust you.”

“I disagree with it because it seems unnatural to me. You were right upon our first meeting; I am nothing like you. You grew up in a home, surrounded by loved ones who shared your abilities and condition, you were taught how to control the wolf, to live in harmony with it.” Lupin’s green pallor faded to grey. “My childhood was the stuff of nightmares, for both myself and my parents.”

“How old were you,” Adam asked, realizing he might have been making too many assumptions about the older wolf sitting across from him. “When you were bitten?”

“I was almost five years old,” Lupin admitted, his iris’ widening slightly. He ran a hand through his prematurely-greying hair. Adam took  notice  of the scars on his face and the calluses on his hands. In a flash, Adam could  _ see _ Lupin, transformed and in pain on the full moon, cornered and scared, clawing and biting at himself. The man at present was worn out: locked in an eternally losing battle with the monster he tried to hide. 

Adam almost felt ashamed of himself. He never considered that being a werewolf was a bad thing;  _ That’s what wizards and No-Majs alike want you to think, _ his mother would constantly say.  _ They fear us because they refuse to understand us.  _ Now he’d come to discover that bitten wolves feared themselves because there was never anyone to educate them, to guide them. Everything Remus Lupin was today was a result of self-taught, self-harmed, and self-fear. Everything Adam Quince was today was a result of his pack. (Though technically, the last year at Hogwarts was because of and for Lian.)

“Sir?”

“Yes, Adam?”

“Will you forgive me, for my ignorance?” Lupin raised both eyebrows a fraction, so Adam continued. “My mother raised me--intentionally or not--to believe that bitten werewolves are mistakes, and disgraces to the species, and while I still think that’s true, I think I see that it’s not your fault. It’s ours.”

Lupin stared, and then leaned his head back to release a soft chuckle. “Don’t take it to heart, Adam. Even if another werewolf had taught me from a young age--I don’t think I would have been so lucky to be taken in by someone as proud and protective as your mother seems to be.” He looked back and sighed heavily. “Still, I appreciate your humility.”

“Maybe you can still learn,” Adam jerked his head at the door. “I mean, you obviously know nothing about werewolves in love.”

“I beg your pardon,” Lupin leaned across his desk, glaring at him. “Do not presume to teach me about affairs of the heart.”

“You’re aware of her, though,” Adam pointed out, “and believe me, that only makes the wolf more persistent.”

Lupin blinked, and Adam would swear until the day he died that he saw a light bulb turn on over the teacher’s head. “I couldn’t figure it out before. Nothing made sense--you were on track to graduate with honors from Ilvermorny at the end of this year, despite a complete downfall last term. You had high expectations for your NEWTs, and several career offers already, particularly in the Curse-Breaking department,”  _ Well somebody’s been stalking the student files, _ thought Adam as Lupin hit his stride. “I couldn’t understand why someone as intelligent as you would give all that up to repeat his sixth year at a different school. It’s because of Lian Kowalski, isn’t it?” he gestured between Adam and the door. “You believe she’s your soulmate.”

Adam sat up straight. “I don’t believe. I know.”

“But to abandon prospects and hope for a good future? Why?”

He scratched his cheek.  _ There’s no other way to make you understand. _ “Could you close your eyes for a moment? I want to try something.” Lupin frowned for a moment, but slowly closed his eyes. “Picture that witch you were just speaking with. Down to the last detail, imagine her face, her scent, her voice. Her job is sending her away from Britain: she’s going to have to travel to Egypt and will remain there for an uncertain amount of time. Could be a few weeks, could be several decades. You will never see her again.” He noticed with some amount of satisfaction that Lupin’s knuckles had turned white as they gripped the arms of his chair. “You tell yourself it would be better that way. At least she’s safe in Egypt, surrounded by mummies and thousand year old curses and wicked ghosts haunting the ancient sands and who knows what else hunting her at every turn-”

“Enough!” Lupin’s eyes snapped open, and for a moment they burned gold before returning to their usual light brown. “Enough.” He looked down at his hands and struggled to release their grip from the chair. 

Adam placed his chin on his arms where they still rested across the back of the chair. “I don’t believe. I know,” he repeated smugly. “And now, so do you.” He paused long enough to allow his words to sink in, before jumping to his feet. “I’ve got Potions class in a little while, so we’ll have to continue this discussion another day.” He waved cheerfully at Lupin’s stunned expression. “Good luck with your witch.”

\---------------

Hufflepuff was the favorite to win the cup this year, or so Zacharias kept saying to anyone who would listen. Since he was the team’s captain, Adam and the rest had little choice. After practice on Saturday afternoon, Zach decided it was the best time to lecture them all. He lost both beaters around the first ten minutes, while Adam tried to listen for the following twenty. 

“...and what’s more, while Slytherin’s line-up is pretty impressive this year, I’ve no doubt that their lead Chaser’s going to be a bit more bludger-shy due to her recent mishap earlier this week. I had no idea she had a prosthetic arm until then--apparently it's still being fixed…” Zach was saying when Adam’s mind jumped tracks.

**_Watch her._** His wolf grunted warningly. **_Any day now._**

_ She’d wait until the end of term, _ he argued, hardly believing himself.  _ People would notice if she just vanished one day. _

**_Not if she changes everything._ ** Which, as haunting as it sounded from the depths of his soul, was the most eloquent his inner wolf had ever been. 

_ So what if she does decide to change the past? We’ll still find her.  _

**_No._ **

_ Excuse you? _

**_Bad. She must stay. Mine._ **

_ If I woke up tomorrow, in my seventh year at Ilvermorny with her in the Thunderbird loft and me in the Wampus den-- _

**_No._ **

_ I’d be fine with that. _

**_Must protect her._ **

_ What do you mean? Protect her from what? How could you possibly know something I don’t? _

**_Sense it._ **

_ Mind sharing some of those senses? _

“Adam!” Zacharias snapped his fingers before his face to bring him back to the present. “I said dismissed. Where did you go?”

“Sorry. Lost in thought,” he shook himself slightly.

Zach gave him an appraising look, something he did quite a lot in the last year. “Will you be alright to play next week?”

Adam nodded confidently, ignoring the wolf’s constant snarls of  **_danger!_ ** from within. “The full moon’s on Monday--I should be fine by game time.”

“Good. You’re an excellent keeper, I’d hate to replace you,” said Zach, sounding nonchalant despite allowing the compliment to escape from his lips.

**_HER._ ** The wolf hissed.  **_Find her now!_ **

“Don’t worry about it.” Adam shoved the rest of his gear into the locker. “I’m gonna head back now. I’ll see you later.”

Hiking across the grounds, up the stone steps and into the castle, Adam had to endure the wolf grating on his every nerve.  **_Bad. Bad. Find Mine. Bad._ ** He made his way to the hospital wing, waving at a few familiar faces as he did so.  _ Will you calm down? Everything is fine! _

He entered the wing to spot the only occupied bed. Well, occupied is a loose term, the only bed being used as a place to sit would be more accurate. Lian used her wand to reattach her silver arm, watched carefully as the latches set and flexed the metal fingers experimentally. Placing her wand behind her ear, she reached into the pocket of her robes and pulled out the time-turner.

**_Bad. Bad! BAD!_ **

“Lian, wait!” She turned to face him, her fingers already turning the hourglass. Adam charged across the space between them, vaulting over one of the beds and reaching out to grab her. “No!”


	20. Her Own Worst Enemy

_ Being pushed through time and into a bush wasn’t exactly how Lian pictured the day she’d save her brother at long last. She’d wanted to leave sooner, right after Quidditch practice, actually. As fate would have it, Crabbe misfired one of the bludgers and she protected her skull by raising her prosthetic. Promising herself she’d leave as soon as it was fixed, she continued about her business for the following week, pretending all was well, while inside her stomach churned nervously. What if she failed?  _

_ If anything, the very last thing she expected was for the BFG to sniff her out the exact moment she used the silver hourglass. She’d already pricked her finger on it and everything when he came shooting across the hospital wing like a bullet fired from a gun.  _

_ Lying in a tangle in the undergrowth, she shoved the offending knee out of her face, crawling away and sitting up to look around.  _

_ “What did you do?” Adam jumped to his feet, caught his shoelace on a root and stumbled a few paces. “Where’d the hospital wing go?” _

_ Lian glanced around the area, recognizing that the nearest ‘wing’ was a flock of pigeons nearby. They were in Central Park, near the Gapstow bridge. Glancing at the hourglass still in her grasp, she got to her feet as well. It was lucky neither of them had classes on Saturday--they’d have been a fine addition to the New York population that day--dressed up as wizard students from Scotland. “It worked.” _

_ “What are you talking about?” Adam gazed around at the tall buildings to the south. “Are we...are we in America?” _

_ “Manhattan,” Lian confirmed, even as the sounds of car horns blaring could be heard. She spotted a stray newspaper nearby and snatched it up. Ignoring the headline altogether, she read the date aloud. “August 21st, 1984.”  _

* * *

 

Adam woke up. He was lying on a firm mattress, his head resting against a single pillow. He knew immediately where he was, but even so, something was wrong. 

“Dude,” one of his roommates called. They could’ve been addressing him, but he wasn’t certain until a shoe hit him in the chest. “Get up. We have about seven minutes to eat before our first exam.”

Adam sat up, rubbed his eyes--though he did not feel particularly tired; mostly just disoriented. Even more so when he spotted his best friend, standing a few feet away and casually cleaning his glasses. “Anders?”

“Mm,” the Minnesotan grunted in reply. 

_ What year is it?  _ He wanted to ask, but his mouth grew dry just considering it.  _ What exam? Did I just pop back here in the middle of the night? _

“Six minutes!” cried Abe from the doorway. “And I’m not leaving any bacon for you!”

Normally, the threat of no bacon would have Adam in the kitchen faster than you could apparate, but everything about the setting felt wrong, even if it was so obviously right. As he dressed in his blue and cranberry robes, he got the feeling he should find someone. After successfully snatching the last two pieces of bacon from Abe, he walked with Anders out into the castle. 

“Where are you going?” Anders repeated on just about every floor as Adam continued to take wrong turns. “The NEWTs take place in the main hall on the  _ second _ floor, remember?”

“Right, right,” he would mutter, though his eyes trailed ceaselessly towards the southwest part of the castle. When at last they reached the main hall, and the small army of seventh years assembled outside it, it was then he recalled the name of the person he needed to find. 

* * *

 

_ “What are we doing thirteen years in the past?” Adam demanded, spinning on the spot-much like a dog chasing after its tail. “I thought time-turners were only supposed to skip a few hours or maybe a day at most!?” _

_ “Normal golden ones that you find on a chain, yes,” Lian explained patiently, dropping the newspaper in the nearest trash bin and heading towards the far side of the bridge. It was important that she wasn’t identified by any member of her family. “This isn’t a time-turner though. It’s called a Blood-turner.” _

_ “Oh, well, knowing what it’s called brings SO much peace to my heart right now,” said Adam obnoxiously. _

_ “From what I’ve read about them,” Lian continued as though he hadn’t interrupted. “They’re extremely rare, can’t be replicated, and very few were made to begin with; but the bronze-colored sand is activated by a drop of the user’s blood, and then it only works for them. Instead of taking me back a few hours, it took me through time to where my blood would have been. In other words, someone I’m related to.” _

_ “Like your brother?” _

_ “Or all of them,” she pointed to the family making their way towards the bridge on the opposite side. Three children walked ahead of three adults, the oldest boy gripping the hand of the youngest as he leaned towards the water.  _

_ “Ducky!” The little boy cried. Their sister turned to the gruffer-looking of the adults and blew a raspberry at him. _

_ “You cheeky little-” the man said in an Australian accent, before breaking into a run and chasing her across the bridge. “Get back here ankle biter!” _

_ “That’s your family?” Adam asked from beside her.  _

_ “Yep. Nearly thirteen years ago--me being chased by Uncle Anatoly, Oliver and Jake playing the buddy system while my mom tried to induce my baby sister’s birth by taking a walk at nine months while Dad worried about the six of us.”Lian glanced at her thirteen-years-younger father as he held her mother’s hand. She couldn’t remember seeing him look so peaceful in the last few years. His concerned expression in the past was a dream for the way he was in the present. “I’d give anything to protect them exactly as they are now.” _

_ “Is it too cliche to say I have a bad feeling about this?”  _

_ “Yes, very Han Solo.” _

_ A man stepped out from behind a tree once the little Julianne reached it, and picked her up suddenly. She shrieked, but before either witch or wizard could cast a spell to protect her, a low hanging branch from the very same tree came to life and began whacking away at the stranger until he dropped Julianne and dodged away through the park.  _

_ “Are you alright, sweet’eart?” Anatoly crooned as he scooped her into his arms. She was sobbing out of shock more than anything. In seconds Amaya was there, waddling for all she was worth to check on her daughter.  _

_  
__“This is why you don't chase the kids, Ana,” she grumbled, while also soothing her child. “What's wrong with holding her hand?”_

 _  
__“It was a game, ‘Maya,” he replied with exasperation. “Won't happen again. She's learned now,” he gestured at the girl in his arms, who was hiding her face in his shoulder. “Jus’ about glued ‘erself to my armpit.”_

 _  
__“Well it shouldn’t have happened in the first place--you had to use magic to save-” She gasped suddenly, and stopped talking._

 _  
__“Oy, I did no such thing-” said Anatoly indignantly, ignorant to his sister’s plight. David understood, and he was at her side in seconds._

 _  
__One hand in hers and the other at her back he said, “What do you need?”_

 _  
__“It’s happening,” she hissed, wincing slightly. “We have to go now.”_

 _  
__“The bub?” said Uncle Anatoly. “We’ve got to disapparate!”_

 _  
__“I won’t risk splinching myself!” Amaya snapped. “There’s a portkey in my purse--get it David!” Ever the dutiful husband, Dad fetched a random object from his wife’s purse, holding it out for her to touch. She did so, looking at her brother with a fierce glare. “Get the children to their grandparents right away! David will come for them when it’s over.”_

 _  
__“Don’t worry about a-” he began to reply, but in that moment, Amaya and David were whisked away._

 _  
__Jake hiccuped at Oliver’s side. “Magic!”_

 _  
__“Shh!” Oliver slapped a hand over his little brother’s mouth. “Not ‘post to tell!”_

_ “Is that it?” Adam asked, reminding Lian that they were not supposed to be mere spectators this time around. “Did you make the tree move to save your brother?” _

_ “First of all,” Lian turned to look at him with a stern expression. “That was me, not my twin, but thanks for that. And secondly--that was kid stuff. Like when your magic starts to reveal itself at odd moments and you’re not in control? That was either little me or little Ollie.” She eyed the direction the strange,  would-be kidnapper had gone. “Likely he made the same mistake, thinking I was Ollie. He’ll try again when we reach the streets, only this time I’m going to stop him.” _

_ “You now or you then?” _

_ “Me now.” She gripped his arm and pulled him behind an oak tree as her Uncle walked past with herself and siblings in tow. “They’ll take the path, but we can beat them if we take a shortcut that way--I’ll discover it a few years from now with Matteo and Laura.” _

_ “My head hurts,” Adam grumbled as he lumbered along in her wake. “Can we please talk about the consequences before you do anything rash?” _

_ “I thought we already discussed this; I’m saving my brother!” she said curtly, barely turning her head to speak as she moved swiftly through the park.  _

_ “It wasn’t so much a discussion as a proclamation,” he replied. “Hermione could be right; what if something worse happens to your family because of this?” _

_ Lian had just spotted the sidewalk, where she knew her Uncle and siblings would try and wave down a taxicab in a few minutes. She decided she should quiet Adam’s doubts before he had a chance to try and stop her for real. She only had one shot, and she wasn’t about to throw it away. She turned to look up at him, making her eyes bigger than usual. “Don’t you get it? This will fix everything!” _

_ Adam grimaced. “Nothing’s broken!” _

_ “I am!” she cried without thinking. “I haven’t been able to get this moment off my mind since I found out the truth! If I can prevent his disappearance, I’ll get a normal wizarding childhood. My family will be whole, I could look at my parents without taking a shot of their pain and suffering for thirteen years!” She took a steadying breath, trying to calm herself down. She’d need a clear head in a minute, and she couldn’t have that when she was all worked up from whisper-shouting. “And...when we meet at Ilvermorny...maybe I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss you…” she glanced up into his hazel eyes and then down at his shoulder, playing shy. “Maybe that something between us...could happen…” _

* * *

 

“Where’s Lian?” Adam asked Anders, glancing around at the other seventh years with a frown. He spotted Matteo standing with Will and Aisha, the three of them signing as they spoke. He thought for certain he’d see her standing with Vera, who was talking to Brianna and Kacey over to the left of the crowd. Scott and Beck quizzed each other without notes, and a guy Adam thought he should know hovered nearest the door. Of all the other faces, his stood out to Adam quite clearly. His hair was colored a soft golden red from either an old dye job or sunbleach, while his darker roots showed, making his hair look like hellfire. His face, hands and arms were tanned from being outside, yet Adam was certain he had freckles scattered across his nose. 

“Who?” Anders said, cutting into Adam’s unashamed stare.

“Lian.”

“Leann Cottam?” his friend suggested. “Isn’t she a year below us?”

“No. Well, yes. But I meant Lian, as in Lian Kowalski,” Adam clarified, even as the doors to the main hall opened and they started to call last names alphabetically. 

“I’m drawing a blank,” Anders replied as the Aaron triplets were summoned. “Is she in Wampus?”

“No, she’s in Thunderbird.” Adam gazed at Anders, trying to see if he was being funny. “You know who I’m talking about, you went on a date with her in fourth year.”

Looking guilty, Anders placed the tip of his tongue between his teeth and cocked his head back, thinking hard. While he sorted through his own density, Adam leered around at his fellow classmates. Perhaps she was sick? Or maybe she wound up going to a different school anyway? But why hadn’t he followed her? And why did he feel so empty inside? His eyes were drawn to the strange boy again. In all his time at Ilvermorny, he had never seen someone like him, and yet the fuzzy side of his brain insisted he was at least acquainted with him. 

Moving through the crowd, he decided the best way to figure it out was to ask. Pausing beside the hellfire guy, he said in a bracing tone, “Nervous?”

The guy looked up, meeting Adam’s questioning gaze with gunmetal eyes. “Not really. Just want to get it over with. You?”

He seemed friendly enough. They’d definitely interacted before...maybe. “Eh, same. It’s Anders I’m worried about,” he jerked his head back at his best friend, who was still trying to remember a girl he’d gone on one date with three years previously. He looked like a No-Maj computer that was still downloading. 

The boy with hellfire hair sucked in air through his teeth. “Yeah, I’d worry about him too. Doesn’t he want to be an Auror?”

“Something like that,” Adam replied with a shrug. “We’ll see how that goes. Hey, have you seen Lian anywhere?”

The guy quirked an eyebrow at him. “Who?”

Just then, the examiners called for, “Kane, Lyra! Kirkpatrick, Alyssa! Kowalski,” Adam looked up eagerly. “Oliver!” 

The guy with hellfire hair released a breath he’d probably withheld unconsciously. “Showtime. See ya later, Quince.”

* * *

 

_ Adam grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to meet his eyes again, which were filled with a hard light. “Stop it. I know you’re only saying that to win me over: but I like us, here and now, even if-” _

_ “Even though I rejected you?” Lian finished bluntly. _

_ “But you didn’t.” _

_ Lian frowned, glanced sideways and then back up. “Um, I told you to stop pursuing me; if that isn’t a rejection-” _

_ “You didn’t reject me,” Adam stated clearly, “because you weren’t in possession of all the information. You didn’t know what you were turning away, so it doesn’t count. We’ll happen eventually, I know it, but please! Just...let the past remain the way it is and we can go back home together.” _

_ Lian almost agreed. But then Anatoly reached the street, young Julianne perched on his shoulders, Jacob holding the hand that wasn’t trying to hail a cab, while Oliver stood nearby, watching the pigeons. The strange man from before began to walk up the pavement, his hat pulled down low over his face. It was now or never. _

_ “...I can’t. I have to do this,” she decided, placing the Body-Bind curse on Adam, who hit the dirt with a thud. “Please forgive me...I’ll see you at Ilvermorny.” _

_ Walking up to the stranger from behind, both of them just yards away from the boy scaring the pigeons for his own amusement. Throwing her arms around the man, Lian twisted suddenly and Disapparated.  _

* * *

 

Oliver Kowalski. Adam finished the Charms exam in record time, and took that time to sort out his slowly rising memories of the guy. They’d met in their first year, clashing repeatedly in Alchemy and Self-Transfiguration. He was extremely intelligent, but kind of lazy when it came to his studies--he never seemed to be paying attention and yet his grades spoke for themselves. Scholarly-observations aside, Oliver Kowalski kept to himself for the full seven years. He’d been sorted into Thunderbird, though he’d received very strong offers from Horned Serpent and Wampus houses, bringing the sorting to a stall for several minutes while he decided. Jacob Kowalski, Adam had vague memories of; he was a Pukwudgie, while their younger sister Seraphina became a Wampus. 

The fact that Oliver Kowalski did not recognize Lian’s name did not bode well for Adam’s suspicions that something was wrong. 

Instead of going to lunch in the den, he hiked the eleven flights of stairs to the Thunderbird loft, pounding on the trapdoor for admittance. Unconsciously, he tapped out the rhythm that would give him entrance to the Hufflepuff common room, over and over again until it swung open. Kristy Schmidt’s round face poked into view above him, her mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ in surprise. “Can I help you with something, Sir Mixalot?” 

“Kristy? I need to see Lian.” He said, speaking a bit louder than necessary in case she wouldn’t hear him properly. 

“Leanne Fox? She’s studying in her room I think but I can-“

“No!” Why was everyone in on this cruel joke? He used to go to the loft all the time to tease Lian, everyone in the house knew immediately what the knocking on their trapdoor meant...or they did. “Lian! Julianne Queenie Kowalski! She’s this tall,” he held up a hand to his diaphragm to demonstrate, “she’s got soft, brown hair and fiery eyes and she’s the best  damn  witch you’ve ever seen! Stop messing around and let me see her!” 

Kristy’s eyes only grew wide and she blinked once. “Uhm…”

That was when he, the boy Adam knew he shouldn’t know, appeared. Oliver’s expression was inscrutable as he stared down at him. Then, he jumped down the hole to land like a cat beside Adam. “You. With me.” 

Grabbing Adam’s ear and twisting it, Oliver led the werewolf away from the loft and the listening flock. 

“Okay, ow. I’m coming, ow.” 

Oliver released him when they reached the window, and looked out over the mist rising from the pine trees covering the mountain. “How do you know that name?”

“Lian?”

“Julianne Queenie Kowalski. How  the hell do you know my sister’s name?” Oliver turned to look up at him, his gunmetal eyes cold as a shoulder. 

“Because I know her,” Adam replied, wondering why he was not flooded with relief in that moment. She was real; he hadn’t lost his mind. 

“That’s impossible.” Oliver declared. “Julianne’s dead.” 

* * *

 

_ The man struggled against her as she stole away from the street, away from the family she’d do everything in her power to protect. She’d apparat _ _ ed _ _ to the first place that came to mind, the smaller park across town where she’d first met Jason King long, long ago. They landed in the fountain and wrestled for a few minutes, knocking his hat off in the process. Dimly, she recognized that though they struggled and fought together, sending waves of water in every direction, no one tried to stop them. She was almost certain no one batted an eyelid.  _

_ Taking her by surprise, the man pulled out his wand and stunned her long enough to exit the fountain, soaking and dripping all over. He shook his hair out of his face, before turning to leer down at her. “Great. Just great.”  _

_ She got out the moment her limbs would respond, coughing in an effort to return some water to the fountain where it belonged. Then she pointed her wand at the culprit, victory flooding through her veins. “Any last words?”  _

_ The man, who looked less like a threat and more like a peeve, grimaced at her, and she realized that she’d seen him before. She’d seen him speak, seen his picture, but never knew his name. If she didn’t know any better… “Funny, I was about to say the same to you.” _

_ “You… you’re a…” she fumbled in effort to find the right words. She hadn’t anticipated this much: she didn’t think she would know the man who abducted her brother—and she didn’t, but he was recognizable. It wasn’t even the mysterious Roman. “Who are you?” _

_ “Not the typical last words, but original enough I suppose.” The man sighed, glancing around. “Or haven’t you noticed? It’s already started.”  _

_ “What?” Lian glanced around as well, watching the children ride their bicycles nearby, an old woman reading her novel on a nearby bench, and a loudly dressed individual spray painting the brick wall. No one had stopped to watch them, as she’d previously thought. Not even the middle schoolers, who would stop and point at anything strange. “I don’t understand.”  _

_ “Roman told you not to come,” The man said annoyingly. “This is all your fault.” _

_ “He specifically said there was nothing I could do to save Oliver, and I just proved him wrong!”  _

_ “Yes, your brother gets to be raised by his own parents and you and I will fade away.” Lian stared at him in bewilderment. “Yeah, because of your self-serving act of heroism, you and I are dead!” _

_ “No, I’m right here.” _

_ “You’re a time echo, nobody can hear you or see you. You can try going back to your family, but they’ll only ignore you for forever.” _

_ “Why? What did I do wrong?” Lian’s voice shook. “You know, other than illegally messing with the timeline.” Was death her punishment? Automatically?? _

_ “You messed up your OWN timeline, which is like the number one rule. Oliver was always supposed to be taken. You stopping that will cause a horrible ripple effect. You have no idea how bad this is going to turn out.” The man’s voice was harsh and without sympathy.  _

_ “You never answered my question. Who are you? Why would you take my brother?” _

_ “My name is not important. Not anymore—he’ll take over now, thanks to you. You should wear a banner that reads ‘Long Live the Dark Lord!’”  _

_ “Oliver being kidnapped directly affects whether or not Voldemort wins?” Lian asked skeptically, despite the wetness in her eyes and the shortness in her breath. “How?” _

* * *

 

“How? When?” Adam heard himself say. 

“We were barely five years old, when we went on a family outing to Long Island. Julianne got lost in the woods and was attacked by a hidebehind. My parents couldn’t get her help soon enough, and she bled out in their arms.” Oliver glared up at Adam. “We’ve known each other for seven years and you choose now to—wait,” he squinted suspiciously. “Is this a ruse to throw me off? You distracting me with my worst memory in an effort to beat out my scores for the NEWTs? I don’t think so, Quince!”

“What?” Adam shook his head. “No! No, that’s not even close to what—”

“We’ve got our Dark Arts exam in twenty minutes. Your plan won’t work so get out of here.” Oliver pulled out his wand and pointed it at Adam. “Or I’ll hex you into the next summer.” 

“Oliver, listen, this isn’t right, your sister is—” Adam broke off abruptly. “Wait, what’s the next exam for?”

“The Dark Arts? Only the most important class in school? We’ve taken it since first year?” Oliver shook his head. “You have got to be scared spitless to try pathetic psych-outs like this.” 

But Adam wasn’t listening to Oliver Kowalski anymore. He’d never attended a Dark Arts class, or even heard of them being taught as a separate class. True, as a second year they’d been given a hefty volume called  _ Understanding the Dark Arts _ , but that had always been more of an extra credit thing than the school standards for teaching. 

He began to question himself. Why did he know Lian Kowalski? Why could he see her so clearly, almost taste her, touch her..? He could vividly remember how every nerve would jump excitedly when she walked into a room, how she would speak with such stubborn, brazenness that was sadly going extinct: he could still remember the sound of her voice, the gentle whisper before he returned from his dreams…

_ I have to do this...Please forgive me...I’ll see you at Ilvermorny. _

“QUINCE!” Oliver yelled, bringing Adam back to earth. “What is wrong with you today? If this is some weird panic episode—I mean, I’d still like to know where you learned my sisters na-” Too late, Adam was off, running the length of the hall to the staircase at the far end. “HEY!”

He needed to talk to someone in charge. A teacher. A friend? A familiar face that could provide real answers. 

He raced toward the Alchemy wing. Around the bend from Professor Kowalski’s office, he almost ran into a proud-looking wizard who didn’t belong there. His silvery blond hair was tied back with a ribbon, while his luxurious green and black robes felt misplaced and odd in the hall of the American school. He walked with a cane, though apparently didn’t need it for help, as he jerked its silver, snake-head handle beneath Adam’s chin. 

“Watch where you’re going, Mr. Quince,” the wizard snarled. “What’s your hurry?”

“I needed to speak to Professor Kowalski,” Adam answered, the fuzzy parts of his brain telling him to tread carefully around this man. “Sir.” He added quickly. 

“As headmaster, I would encourage you to return to the main hall to continue your NEWT examinations.” The man said in a slippery voice that gave Adam chills down his spine.  _ What’s a British guy doing, running an American school anyway? In a way he kinda looks like Draco Malfoy...wait, who’s Draco Malfoy? _ Adam nodded numbly, before turning around and heading back up the hall. 

Lian Kowalski. Draco Malfoy. Why were these names in his head, pounding against his skull like lives depended on it…

* * *

 

_ “It’s a long story,”  _

_ “Talk fast, apparently I don’t have a lot of time left.” Lian placed her metal hand on her hip, her left still aiming her wand at the would’ve-been-kidnapper.  _

_ “It doesn’t matter now, it’s already done.” the wizard waved at her dismissively, then stopped to look at his hand, which had become transparent. “Well there I go.” _

_ Lian looked at her own hands, or hand; her metal arm completely disappeared. “No, it’s not supposed to happen this way. I’m supposed to go out in a blaze of glory, spells firing and taking the enemy down with me.” She pictured her boggart in her mind's’ eye. “And there was a good chance that Roman guy was involved.” _

_ “That would have been more preferable over just disappearing, now wouldn’t it?” The wizard sat down on the fountain and went to rest his chin in his hand, but it fell through his fingers. “You screwed up. Without Oliver taking his own path, you died earlier this year from the hidebehind.” _

_ Sitting beside him on the fountain’s wall, Lian shook her head. “That doesn’t make any sense, it already happened. I was already saved! I was right there with my uncle and brothers!” _

_ “Roman only went to save you in the first place because he met Oliver, which will never happen now because you stopped me. You thought you were making things right by bending time--Time was already bent when it came to your brother, you just snapped it in half.” _

_ “Where would you have taken him?” Lian demanded. If she was going to vanish, she felt she deserved to at least go knowing that answer. _

_ “Where he was needed.”  _

_ “Specifically?” _

_ “I’m not telling you anything. You’re dead.” _

_ “ _ You’re dead! _ ” she mimicked angrily.  _

_ “Which is your fault!” _

_ “If Oliver was always meant to be taken, why didn’t anyone tell me? Roman had the opportunity!” _

_ “You really think that any real warning would have stopped you? I bet you had friends, good ones, that told you the risks of changing your own timeline. I bet you read books and records from and about wizards and witches who meddled with time and paid dearly for it. You had enough warning, and look where it got you!” _

_ Lian got to her feet, which were starting to fade as were what remained of her biceps. “How can I fix this? I’m not supposed to go down like this, and I’ll be jiggered if I lay down and accept it as fate.” _

_ “Jiggered?” the wizard repeated. _

_ “I’ve been hanging around British people a lot in the last two years.” _

_ He muttered something under his breath that sounded like, “Not the right kind of British people…” _

* * *

 

He shouldn’t have known how to answer any of the questions for his Dark Arts written exam, as he didn’t recognize the subject material at all. It was as though his hands flew across the page on their own. He felt Oliver Kowalski’s occasional glare in his direction, but he didn’t let it bother him much. He was quite busy reading the answers to the questions he apparently knew by heart. 

    1. Name three alternative terms for Dark Magic



 

  * __Hex, jinx, curse__



 

    1. Essay question: What is required to raise the dead? 



 

  * __The answer varies because there are many ways to raise the dead…__



And so forth. Two hundred questions later Adam left the main hall with a headache and a bit of nausea. Apparently they taught the most effective ways to gain information by way of torture, presenting written simulations for the students to answer. Everyone was acting like it was normal, so why was Adam having a hard time remembering a single lesson? The teacher’s face? Whether or not he’d enjoyed it at some point?

He’d pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the window when a small hand slipped into his, giving his palm a squeeze. “How’d you feel?”

_ Lian? _ Adam looked down hopefully, but was greeted by the sight of Vera, whom he’d always viewed as a sister. She was looking up at him, her mouth a flat line across her face except the corners, which were slightly curved upwards. For Vera Schmid, that was practically beaming. She was built like a pixie, but had the attitude of a champion; she was loved in Wampus house, and a good friend to Lian--the girl who apparently didn’t exist. 

Frowning at her hand in his, Adam replied, “Not great, if I’m being honest.”

Taking the hint, Vera removed the offending grip and clasped her her hands behind her back. “Yeah...seven years later and I still get goosebumps every time we have to take a Dark Arts exam. I guess Professor Nott owes me ten galleons with interest.”

“Who?” The surname  _ Nott _ struck Adam like a tempest jinx.

“Professor Nott? He and Headmaster Malfoy came over from Britain around the same time?” 

_ Nott. Malfoy. Lian. _ Faces jumped into Adam’s mind, and suddenly he remembered. He remembered the life he was supposed to be living. He’d watched a hat serenade an entire room full of people before sorting the first years into the four houses. He’d joined the table under the yellow banner, amidst cheering students in plain black robes. He’d run beneath the full moon with a bitten, and two animagus. He’d kissed under the mistletoe...albeit not as sweetly as it sounded. And  _ she... _ and  _ they… _ He should’ve stopped her while he had the chance.

“Adam?” Vera was poking his shoulder.

“See ya later,” he said abruptly, before rushing the staircase. 

————

The school supply closets were fresh out of time-turners, but they likely wouldn’t get him to where he needed to go anyway. What he  _ needed  _ was advanced Alchemy. He was never so grateful to be tall in his life as he snatched books off the high shelves in Kowalski’s office.  _ Advanced...illegal...tomato, tomahto… _

“What are you doing?” Adam whirled around, his arms loaded with books he technically wasn’t supposed to borrow. Professor Kowalski stood in the doorway, a pair of reading glasses perched on her nose. Her eyes counted the number of volumes he was holding before focusing on his face. “This isn’t the library, Mr. Quince.”

“I’m aware, Professor, but I don’t have much time, and you’re usually more understanding than the troll librarian.” 

“The librarian is a pukwudgie as you well know,” Professor Kowalski moved into the room, allowing the door to close behind her. “What do you need so many books for in such a short amount of time? Your Alchemy NEWT isn’t scheduled until Thursday.”

Relaxing slightly, accounting for the fact that she had not thrown him out, nor told him to put the books where he’d found them. Hopefully she would continue to act so cool when he began digging through her desk for ingredients. “There’s something I have to fix.”

“Such as?”

“It’s…” he hesitated, thinking of Oliver’s reaction.  _ But she’s the cool teacher, _ he reminded himself.  _ And the cool aunt. _ “Time.”

Professor Kowalski sneezed. “I beg your pardon?” 

“I’m from a different time, and I need to go back there.” He winced.  _ Worst explanation ever.  _ “Where I’m from, your niece Julianne is alive, Headmaster Fontaine runs the school and life isn’t perfect, but it’s good.” He flipped open  _ Gateways: a Guide _ and found the chapter on time formulas. “Alchemy is about exchange, but it’s also about restoring a broken thing back to the way it was.”

“Julianne?” Professor Kowalski’s voice was barely more than an exhale. “You know my Julianne?”

Adam made eye contact as he spoke. “Better than most people.”

She shivered. “But to do what you’re suggesting, would require a sacrifice and I’m not sanctioned to oversee something of that magnitude.” 

“I’m not asking you to see anything.” Adam said with a shrug. “I would ask for the vial of stardust you’ve got in the top drawer, though.”

Professor Kowalski looked taken aback by the request. “How did you know-?”

“In my timeline, you had Lian try to figure out what it was in our first year--when she was doubting herself and her magic. She and quite a few of the teachers feared she might’ve been a Squib,” he explained, remembering the knowledge as it flowed out of his mouth. He then gained the memory that the professor’s brother, Lian’s father, was in fact a Squib. 

“How can you make sense and still sound nonsensical? It’s quite possible that the stress of your exams has caused you to finally snap.” She said, looking over him doubtfully, hesitantly retrieving the stardust. 

“You’ve been my teacher for seven years, have you ever known me to break under pressure?” 

“...What else do you need?” she said at last. 

* * *

 

_ “I don’t understand!” Lian stamped her non-existent foot. At this rate, she would disappear in minutes. “I left him right here!”  _

_ The man she’d started calling Napper in her head shrugged what was left of his shoulders. “He probably returned to his proper setting in time.” They’d returned to the spot where Oliver was supposed to be kidnapped, because Lian had hoped that Adam, paralyzed in the bushes, could help, but he’d gone by the time they arrived.  _

_ “At Hogwarts? Then he’ll find people who can help!” _

_ “This guy,” Napper cleared his throat. “He’s American as well?” _

_ “Technically he’s Canadian.” _

_ “Well then he’s probably in the American school. You won’t exist, so why would he have a reason to go?” Napper leaned what was left of his dissolving body against a lampost nearby. “He’ll have a few memories of you that will fade as he accumulates to the new timeline.” _

_ “What about people I met at Hogwarts? Will any of them remember me?” _

_ “Not unless they have had dealings traveling outside of the regular timeline, as you just did.” _

_ Lian felt a spark of hope for a split second, before what was left of her essence vanished completely.  _ Standing alone, missing half of his body and waiting for Death to collect him at last, Regulus Black eyed the Manhattan sky. 

“I hope you’re right, Roman...about her...I hope you’re right about all of this.”

Suddenly there was a jolt that shook his entire body back into existence, he looked up and saw the little family as they had been an hour ago, standing on the curb and trying to hail a cab. The little girl perched on her Uncle’s shoulders like a bird, waving both arms at the street, while the Uncle held the youngest boy’s hand, to prevent him from straying. 

And there, spooking a flock of pigeons only a few paces from his Uncle, was Oliver Kowalski. Regulus glanced through the trees and spotted Lian and her friend, saw her jinx him with the Body-Bind curse, and turn to intercept her brother’s kidnapper. 

Unsure of how Time had developed a reset button, Regulus seized the new chance and stunned Lian before she could make another step. He then approached little Oliver, picked him up and Disapparated.

 


	21. The Dark Mark

When you get a sunburn, you do absolutely everything you can to avoid touching it, angering it, and getting the unpleasant reminder that you almost charred your own skin off. If someone had asked me a year ago if I would rather die by fire or freezing to death, I’d have picked the fire, because that way I could pull a medieval trick and make the fire harmless and only pretend, or at the very least it’d be over quicker. Nowadays, freezing didn’t seem like such a bad concept; anything to get the constant burning sensation to go away. It wasn’t the heat kind of burn either, no amount of cool salves could calm the raging inflamed sensation that haunted my flesh. I could only cope by either not touching it or clutching the offending limb, as if cutting off the blood flow would prevent the pain from affecting me. 

The worst part about the burning feeling, was the piercing, bodiless voice that whispered to my mind.  _ Dumbledore must die. _

This is what it was to have the Dark Mark. 

Saturday couldn’t come soon enough, and when it finally had—I didn’t notice that Lian vanished from the Slytherin common room, I was too busy silently writhing in pain. Daphne, who was working on Herbology in the seat beside me, finally spoke up. “Theo, if you have to go to the bathroom that badly, just go. Your essay will be here when you get back, I promise.”

Evidently I wasn’t as subtle with my grievance as I’d previously imagined. Seizing the chance I left the common room where I could roam the dungeons while I attempted to gain control over myself once more. That was the plan, at least, until Draco followed me out and proceeded to describe the kind of agony he was enduring as well. 

“Come with me to the hospital wing, surely the matron will have something to make it stop,” he whined. 

“Sure, I was in there last week when I spotted Dark-Mark-remover in her cupboard, right next to the pimple-concealer.” I snapped in reply. 

Draco clapped a hand over my mouth. “Keep your voice d-AGH!” I might have bitten him. “WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!”

“Keep your voice down,” I said mockingly, “I don’t think the Ravenclaw’s like spoilers.”

“This isn’t a joke, Nott!” Draco hissed, brandishing his left arm in my face. “This is, in fact, an  _ order _ !”

“It’s not like we can just knock on the headmaster’s office and take him down quietly.” I replied. “Pretty sure the portraits alone would land us in Azkaban before you could say Quidditch.”

We walked in silence through the halls of the castle, our left arms still searing unpleasantly, but our faces schooled to hide any indication of weakness. Outside of the common room, outside of the dungeons, exposed to the rest of the school who wouldn’t trust us further than they could spit. I was headed to the seventh floor; the one place left to us to speak freely, but Draco apparently couldn’t walk any further than the sixth and ducked into the bathroom off the staircase. 

He was in a rough state, clutching the sink and shaking from head to toe. “It wouldn’t hurt so badly if he didn’t want it done straight away! ...I think it should be you.”

“Me?” I folded my arms across my chest to display how defensive the idea made me feel. “Why?”

“Because to him, you have nothing to lose, so you’re harder to manipulate. Whereas I…” Draco’s insensitive argument about still having both of his parents died in his throat as he met my eyes. “I-I mean…if you do it, you’ll prove your loyalty...but if I did then he might not have any further use for you…”

“Your thoughtfulness is overwhelming.” I said dryly.

“Look, if one of us doesn’t do it soon… he swore he’d kill us both…” Draco tried to calm himself with a deep breath, but it came out as a shudder. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror and stiffened, spinning on the spot with his wand drawn. I looked at the door and saw Harry Potter standing there, staring at us. 

_ Now, how long have you been there? _ was my first thought, but evidently not theirs. Draco shot first, his hex missing Harry  by inches, shattering the lamp on the wall beside him; Harry threw himself sideways and flicked his wand, but Draco blocked the jinx and raised his wand for another--

“Whoa, hey-!” I yelled, ducking as magic flew back and forth. I raised my own wand tried to disarm one of them to gain some order, but Harry saw this as an act of aggression towards himself and fired the Leg-Locker Curse at me. I barely deflected it, where instead it hit the cistern nearby;  water poured everywhere , while Draco panicked and tried to use a dark curse on Harry. He’d barely made it through the first syllable before Harry pointed his wand at Draco’s chest, a kind of mad fury in his eyes that I’d only seen in Death Eaters before. 

“SECTUMSEMPRA!” 

Blood spurted from Draco’s face and chest as though he had been slashed with an invisible sword. He staggered backward and collapsed onto the waterlogged floor with a great splash, his wand falling from his limp right hand. 

“No-” gasped Harry. 

“Stay back!” I shouted, already at Draco’s side, though my wand was still pointed at Harry. I had no idea he was capable of such magic. 

“I didn’t mean-” Harry stammered, hovering over me, trying to get close.  Draco’s face was now shining scarlet, his white hands scrabbling at his blood-soaked chest. Any and every healing spell I’d ever learnt in the last six years completely deserted me, and every instinct apart from the weak, compassionate one, was telling me to jinx Harry-the-boy-who-wouldn’t-mind-his-own-business-Potter into the next generation. No wonder the Dark Lord wanted him silenced. 

“Nott, I’m sorry,” he tried to say.

“GET OUT!” I yelled. “YOU AS GOOD AS KILLED HIM!”

The door to the bathroom banged open and made Harry jump a good three feet in the air;  Snape had burst into the room, his face livid. Pushing Harry roughly aside, he knelt over Draco, drew his wand, and traced it over the deep wounds Harry’s curse had made, muttering an incantation that sounded almost like a song. The flow of blood seemed to ease; Snape wiped the residue from Malfoy’s face and repeated his spell. Now the wounds seemed to be knitting.

Harry stood rooted to the spot, horrified by what he’d just done. By what it could have meant. I helped Draco sit and then stand up as Snape performed the counterjinx a third time, just to be sure.

“He needs the hospital wing. There may be a certain amount of scarring, but if you take dittany immediately we might avoid even that…” Snape said softly, urging Draco to walk.  “Come…” I offered myself as a kind of crutch, helping Draco out of the bathroom, Snape behind us, though he did stop to hiss at Harry.  “And you, Potter… You wait here for me.”

I don’t really remember the details of supporting Draco to the hospital wing, I just remember setting him down on one of the beds as Snape told Madam Pomfrey all she needed to know. He seemed to recognize the spell Harry had used, but I didn’t ask questions. 

“Now,” he turned on me as Madam Pomfrey bustled away to fetch a bottle of dittany. “What happened, Theodore?”

“Draco and I were talking about the new order,” I said in a low voice, glancing at my left arm before continuing. “When he walked in and Draco kind of just reacted. We were both on edge because of the mark… and then Potter freaks out and did that…” I gestured at Draco, who was awake and breathing but kind of staring into space as though his mind was far away. Shock. Probably better that way. 

“Stay with him. I’ll deal with Potter.” With a sweep of his black robes, Professor Snape left the wing quickly. 

Not long after the heavy doors closed behind him, the nurse returned and gave Draco a few drops of the potion. She went to apply it to his chest but he grabbed her arm and shook his head. 

“Mr. Malfoy, this will heal the alarmingly large scar, you needn’t worry-”

“Leave it.” Draco hissed through his teeth. 

“Are you sure?” I asked. The thing was enormous.

“Positive,” he snarled softly. The nurse hesitated further before reluctantly agreeing. She told him to stay in the bed and specifically, to not move while the potion and Snape’s counter-curse put him back together inside and out. Only after receiving vocal confirmation did she leave us alone at last.

The solitude was short-lived. I hadn’t fully absorbed what had just transpired when there was a soft, but familiar popping noise not three feet from where Draco was lying. We both looked around to see two, rather rigid bodies land on the edge of the neighboring bed, and whether by lack of or overbalance, the unsightly pair toppled to the floor. 

Lian recovered first, swishing her hair out of her face with a toss of her head and pushing Quince (who seemed to be in a Body-Bind spell,) off of her. She glanced around the wing and gave a purely frustrated groan. “No… No, no!” She released Quince from his invisible bind, and he came to life at once.

“ _...nunc denuo incipere, _ ” he muttered, before sitting up and looking around. “Oops.”

“Oops?!” Lian wailed. “What did you DO?”

“Me?” Quince shot back. “You were the one who left me in the bushes!”

“I couldn’t trust you to not stop me, and I WAS RIGHT,” she emphasized, gesturing around at the hospital beds. (They still had not noticed Draco and I watching them.) “That spell you were chanting just now, that sounds suspiciously like something you’d use in Alchemy. I’m only going to ask one more time: What. Did. You. Do.”

Quince fell into thought for a moment before he replied. “It worked. You saved him, but then I was at school without you. Nobody knew who you were, except Oliver-”

“You met him?!” Lian cried, grabbing Quince’s jacket desperately. “What was he like? Was he okay?”

“He was a competitive, close-minded prick! He got all upset when I asked where you were.”

“Where I--what?” 

“You saved him, but you died. You weren’t there. And I couldn’t...I couldn’t just leave it…” Quince confessed as his voice broke. 

Lying against the pillows, and under order to remain still, Draco cleared his throat pointedly. The Americans on the floor jumped and looked around in alarm. Lian met my gaze, then dropped hers to look at Draco. She jumped up and moved to sit beside me, never taking her eyes off the bed. “What happened?”

“We saw the dark side of the Chosen One,” Draco replied snidely. “What about you? Save your brother?”

Lian sent a fierce glare over at Quince, who remained out of arm's reach, which was the wisest thing I’d seen him do that year. “Apparently not. But we’ll sort that out later. What really happened?” she aimed the question at me, but I was still on her day.

“Hang on,” I said, staring into her depths. “You went back in time without us?” I inclined my head towards Quince. “And you brought this lumbering idiot instead?”

“I didn’t bring anyone--he jumped me right as I activated the Blood-Turner. It’d work the same if I was disapparating and he grabbed my arm!” Her reply was defensive, but honest. 

“I thought we agreed you’d only use it if one of us was with you,” Draco reminded her. “Maybe if you’d remembered that, I wouldn’t have been attacked.”

“Oh please, you’re fine,” Lian said impatiently. Every time Draco got the tiniest bit dramatic she’d shut him down, and I loved watching it. “It’s not like we’re at your memorial service.”

“But you  _ could’ve _ been!” he gasped. 

“Why did you go without us?” I asked, steering them back on topic.

“It’s my family. It’s my business.” 

“Over the summer, your mother practically adopted Theo and me,” said Draco, suddenly smug. “Which makes them our family as well.”

“Making it our business, so don’t leave without us again.” I said with a note of finality. 

Lian looked between us, her eyes filled with a kind of light I rarely saw. I’d seen it in her mother’s eyes, and occasionally in Mrs. Malfoy’s. With a jolt I realized it was love. At last, she mutely nodded, apparently unable to express herself in words.  _ That’s a first. _

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Quince take a seat on Draco’s other side, choosing to not infringe upon Lian’s space just now. I was still curious though, about what he’d seen in the changed timeline. Obviously, Lian’s absence would have been a shock, but there was something he hadn’t said, something he’d rather ignore. 

“So...what happened to you?” he asked after a long pause, directing the question at Draco, who glowered up at him.

“None of your business, werewolf!”  _ Oh boy. _

Quince’s eyes flashed gold, reminding everyone that the full moon was due in forty-eight hours. Whether consciously or not, a lot of people in our year had started keeping track of the moon cycle--having a teacher was one thing, but dealing with a temperamental classmate was entirely different, though he remained in control so far. 

Knowing Lian would want to be informed, but not prepared to bring Quince into the loop, I murmured in her ear, “We got an order, today.”

She stopped breathing for a few heartbeats, before rising to her feet, moving around the bed, and quietly taking Quince’s hand. “Come on.”

He glanced down at their hands, a sight which I couldn’t believe either, before he gathered his wits about him. “No.”

“You don’t even like Malfoy, why should you-” she argued, but in using the surname, something triggered in Quince’s gaze.

“No. I’m not leaving you with them.”

“Why not?” she challenged.

“Because they were raised by men who approve the use of Dark Magic,” he said bluntly. “How do I know you’re not under their control?”

“Adam, do you honestly think a pair of  _ schoolboys  _ would be enough to control  _ me _ ?” Lian rolled her eyes. “Just go, please. This doesn’t concern you.”

“You concern me.”

At that moment, Madam Pomfrey reappeared, only to chase Quince, Lian and myself from the ward, as we were ‘disturbing the patient’s rest!’ She even ignored my argument that Snape had instructed me to stay at his side. Out in the corridor, I turned on Quince, who was still holding onto Lian like a lifeline. 

“What was it like? The other timeline?” I asked. “And don’t say awful--that’s obvious if you’d rather come back here.”

“...I think the Dark Lord had won…” he said after a moment's hesitation. “The Dark Arts were being taught as a standard subject, anyway. Not how to fight them, but use them to our advantage…”

Lian frowned up at him, reclaiming her hand to touch it to her chin. “...That doesn’t make a lick of sense.” She shook her head. “I save Oliver, and somehow I’m not around to enjoy that--and Ilvermorny turns into Durmstrang?”

“In the other time, Oliver said you’d been attacked by a hidebehind when you were little.” Quince explained, watching her expression to see if it was true. But it was true, even I knew that--though Lian didn’t know I knew, and this was not the place to admit it.

“Yeah, but I was saved and returned safely to my parents,” she insisted. “And that happened before Oliver was taken!”

“Well then somehow, keeping Oliver in the equation prevented whoever from coming to save you...or maybe it happened later on…” Quince rubbed his temples. “I don’t know.”

Sighing heavily, Lian shook her head. “I...I need time to process all this. Alone. Please go.”

Quince looked at her suspiciously. “How do I know you won’t just pop back thirteen years to try again?”

“I can’t. The blood-turner wouldn’t let me, since I’ve already been...I promise not to use it.” She held his gaze until he finally relented and walked away. The moment he was out of sight and sound, Lian turned to me, all melancholy and misery suddenly missing from her face. “Okay spill, what happened to you and Draco?”

Forcing myself to not grin because this was not funny, not a time to be laughing at silly, little details--I rolled up my left sleeve to show her the mark. She’d seen it only once before, back when it was a faint grey against my skin; it was not so today. Rather, it was strikingly black, and caused her to inhale sharply. Apparently she remembered what that meant, and also to refrain from touching it unlike her careless actions last summer. 

“Ouch,” she whispered, before tugging my sleeve back down. “Okay, remind me what that means.”

“You already know,” I said reluctantly. 

“Yes, but say it anyway.” 

“Well it’s usually a summons, or a sign that he’s at full power,” I paused when I caught sight of movement in my peripheral, but it was only the Grey Lady. She drifted slowly past us without so much as a sigh and then vanished through the wall. “... But in this case it’s an order. Both Draco and I could hear his voice in our minds-”

“ _ Someone’s _ been neglecting their meditation,” Lian interjected loftily. 

“-Shut up. And it said that he had to die before the end of next week.” I finished at last. Lian raised her eyebrows and I realized my mistake too late. 

“Voldemort’s got to die before next week? Well that just made everyone’s life much easier now didn’t it?” She grinned as I glared at her. “That’s the attitude you want, Theo, let’s all be as glum and pessimistic as you when facing the end of the world.”

“Is there an alternative?” 

“I know you’re still relatively new to playing the hero, but remember: there is always an alternative.” She placed her left hand on my shoulder. “We’re going to be fine.”

“How do you know?” I knew the question was childish but I needed to give it. 

She answered perfectly, tilting her head jauntily to one side and smiling serenely. “Because I’m a seer, I know everything.” 


	22. False Sense

“Pay up.” Sirius Black’s fingers wiggled expectantly in his face. Given that Remus was reading the _Daily Prophet_ , this was no small feat.

“I beg your pardon?” he said politely.

“I told you Ginny and Harry would get together sooner than James and Lily did when we were at school; I’ve only just heard this morning, so pay up!” his old friend said cheerfully.

“Three dementor attacks in under a week, and _this_ is what you choose to focus on?” Remus rolled his eyes as he dug out a few sickles to hand over. He never doubted Ginny and Harry as a couple, he only thought they would wait until the threat on their lives was vanquished; that was the more sensible option. _Teenagers._

Speaking of less than sensible, Tonks entered his office without knocking, marched over to Sirius and snatched his new sickles away. “Thank you~!”

“Oy!”

“I bet you that their eventual getting together would revolve around a Quidditch match,” Tonks sang proudly. “Or did you forget?”

Sirius growled but relented to her. She looked across at Remus and smiled, and he hated himself for the warm glow that settled around his face and heart. “What brings you to this rather dreary side of the castle?” He asked, forcing his voice to remain steady. 

“Since you asked,” Tonks glanced back at the door and locked it with a jab of her wand. Her tone became serious as she turned back to face them. “I only just heard from Mad-Eye, and the Ministry’s going to try and keep it quiet as long as they can because they’re already in so much trouble when it comes to the public eye--”

“What is it, Tonks?” Sirius growled impatiently.

She scratched her eyebrow as she replied quietly. “Seven death eaters escaped from Azkaban last night: Malfoy, Rookwood, Macnair, Dolohov and the Lestranges.” She met their eyes. “There would’ve been more, but the aurors had arrived by then.” She claimed the seat beside Sirius, her usual bubble-gum pink locks turning into a colorless mess. “You-Know-Who’s been quiet since the Department of Mysteries incident, but now that he’s got his lieutenants back…”

“Of course he was quiet,” Sirius said, giving the window a kind of hard look. “He’s not stupid; he could never take over the wizarding world with lackey’s like Goyle and Wormtail…”

“Not that he hasn’t tried…” Remus muttered quietly. “Has Dumbledore been informed, Tonks?”

The witch shook her head. “I didn’t tell him, but Mad-Eye probably has by now… Maybe now he won’t go galavanting all over the countryside for Helga knows why.”

“I doubt it,” Remus said heavily. “He’s planning to depart again this weekend… Still refuses to explain where and why.”

“Hogwarts is the safest place there is,” Sirius shook himself out of his staring contest with the sky. “Dumbledore’s not foolish enough to leave it unguarded; half the Order has been on patrol anyway.”

“Death Eaters don’t fear the Order members, not like they fear Dumbledore.”

“Well as long as they don’t know he’s absent, what reason would they have to approach the school?” Sirius challenged. “I’m staying around here for a few extra days just in case.”

“Well, knowing that sets me at ease, it does,” declared Tonks sarcastically, making Remus chuckle. “I remember how allergic Bellatrix is to you.”

“If memory serves,” Remus said before Sirius could reply. “Many of her bad reactions were reserved for a different member of your family.”

“True, she reserved a special place in her black soul for him.” Sirius nodded sagely.

“... So. Is there any chance of her attacking the school?” Tonks asked.

“There’s every chance,” Remus answered. “Voldemort will want to seize the castle eventually, but until our sources say otherwise… we needn’t worry ourselves with the what-ifs.”

 

* * *

 

There was something about the Astronomy tower. Maybe it reminded her of the Thunderbird loft, as that was also the placed in the tallest tower back at Ilvermorny. Perhaps it was the solitude, and allowed her to think without having to worry about a stray air current taking her into the stratosphere. That wasn’t to say she hadn’t flown up there, her broom was propped against the door frame even as she dangled her legs out the window, gazing out over the Scottish scenery.

It felt like last year had stretched on for eternity, while this year seemed to skip across the surface of the lake. It had all been too easy somehow, like something was missing...or waiting to happen. And yet, she hadn’t had a chance to stop and reflect. She’d had Quidditch practice--which almost paid off this year, at least they placed 2nd instead of 4th in the House cup; and classes with mountains of homework--plus extra studies because Adam was crazy and insisted on continuing his Alchemical studies with her. On some level she was grateful for this, because if she hadn’t been in contact with Aunt May as much she wouldn’t have helped her fix her prosthetic so quickly.

She sighed and allowed her posture to fall until she was flat on her back, facing the open sky. She hadn’t planned on being at Hogwarts this long. Yes, she’d loved this school since she was a little girl, taking it so far as to try and boycott the way Ilvermorny did things to make it a mini-Hogwarts, but of course, that plan failed. Somewhere along the way she stopped seeing it as a place for herself, and as a temporary stop on the way to achieving her goal of fixing her family.

 _Ollie...I’m sorry._ Wherever he went, wherever that man had taken him...she prayed that he was happy. She would probably never understand why her plan hadn’t worked, why the universe was so set against keeping them apart… When all she wanted was to protect him…

There was a screech from her left and she looked over to see a magnificent red-tailed hawk leering at her. Tied to its leg was a brown envelope, addressed to her. Using her prosthetic mostly, she retrieved it from the bird and opened it in a flash.

It contained a handwritten letter from Brit Carter, and a sealed file from the Reaper. Lian looked at the letter first. She’d wondered if the hired aurors had forgotten about her request or not, she had only managed to get them through her mother’s influence at MACUSA after all.

_Dear Ms. Kowalski,_

_Thank you again for your added witnesses, they were a huge help in finding our mark. We scoured every inch of the record offices in both countries, and you’d be surprised how many “Roman”’s existed in the last fifty years. Here at last is the fruit of our labors, I hope this answers all of your questions. My partner would like me to remind you that this file is not yours to keep, and you need return it to the British Ministry straightaway._

_—B. Carter_

Gingerly, Lian opened the personnel file, finding several clippings of the _Daily Prophet_ , black and white pictures, and a few notes from the Reaper.

“ _Hogwarts student placed under scrutiny by the Improper Use of Magic office,_ ” was one of the phrases that jumped out at her. It was printed beneath a picture of a boy with long dark hair wearing an arrogant expression that would put many Slytherins to shame.

 _Roman,_ she confirmed quietly. Part of her was stunned that he truly wasn’t a figure of her imagination. But the dates were all wrong—most of them were in the 1970s. How was that possible?

“ _Student found in possession of an illegal time-turner,”_ answered that question. It also explained how he could pop in and out of her life without hindrance.

Lian gasped audibly when her eyes landed on the last picture. Roman again, but he was not alone. In fact, she saw at least three familiar faces blinking up at her.

Gathering the paperwork in her arms, she scrambled to shove it all in her bag, her right hand already grasping at her Sky Shatter. The red-tailed hawk watched in quiet fascination as she mounted her broom and shot down the side of the tower. _Faster than stairs_ . She bolted around several turrets and rooftops before finding the proper level, and then she kept going until she was at the correct window. _Seriously, why doesn’t everyone do this?_ Retrieving her wand, Lian opened the window with a loud *BANG* and soared into the modest office, facing the wizard seated alone at his desk.

Pointing a silver finger at him she said, “How...no, _who_ is Roman?”

Lupin straightened his robes and cleared his throat. “Well, it’s about time we had a chat.”

With her broom hovering about six feet off the floor, Lian dropped nimbly to the ground and withdrew a handful of pictures from her bag before shoving them at Remus. “Good. You can start by explaining these!”

Taking the topmost one in his hand, the prematurely greying man studied the picture with the caption printed beneath. “Where did you find this?”

“I have my resources,” Lian sniffed. “You’re in this photograph, I know because that skinny boy has the same scars on his cheek. You know who Roman is, and you’re going to tell me now.”

Remus looked down his nose at her, as though he pitied her. “There’s no need to sound so threatening. I have nothing to hide from you, Lian.” She continued to stare at him with a fierce intensity, so he continued, “You remind me of him, you know. Roman and I went to school together, here at Hogwarts. He would have been a lifelong friend if Voldemort hadn’t decided to start his war.”

Lian sensed no deception from him, so she relaxed slightly. “What happened to him?”

Remus shook his head. “I never knew for certain, only that he disappeared after our seventh year. Sirius was convinced that he’d joined the Death Eaters, but the boy I knew would never have willingly followed Voldemort. He was too smart for that, uninterested in choosing sides, really.” He paused before voicing his question, the one Lian had sensed a long time ago. “How do you know about him?”

It was the perfect opportunity to tell him everything she knew about Roman, how he had shadowed her for so long without explanation, saving and infuriating her at the same time. She could explain her motives behind nearly everything in her life; but she had kept her mouth shut for so long--she hadn’t even told Theodore about him much. There was a lot Theodore didn’t know--the simple fact that she was a Legilimens, for instance, though he probably had his suspicions by now.

Drawing her focus back to the present, Lian decided against sharing the details. “I met him briefly...I don’t know anything about him, though.”

“How did you meet him, then?” Remus pressed, as though it was personal.

“To be frank, he quite literally popped into my life one day.” Which was completely true; Lian could remember clearly the day during her first year at Ilvermorny when the young wizard in plain black robes marched up to her. “- _you’re a lot younger than I’d hoped. I must’ve come too soon.”_ That was the first thing he’d said to her, shortly followed by the last: _“You have to go to Hogwarts as soon as you can. You’ll find everything you want to know about Oliver there, and when it’s the right time, you’ll find-”_ And just like that, he’d vanished into thin air. So far, she was finding his promises to be nothing more than lies: she hadn’t found everything she wanted to know about Oliver at Hogwarts, but she’d been so little and naive when she was eleven, so desperate to believe anything that she’d taken the perfect stranger at his word. “...In fact he’s kind of the reason I fought so hard to come to Hogwarts at all. I could have stayed at Ilvermorny, sure, but he promised me answers if I came here.”

“What kind of answers?” Remus asked.

“Those that have avoided me thus far,” she replied flatly. She held up one of the newspaper clippings in her hand. “This says that he was experimenting with an illegal time-turner,” she could clearly remember him holding an hourglass when she’d met him that first time. He’d held it up before her face and told her it wasn’t working the way it should. “Do you know why?”

The wizard ran a hand through his greying hair. “He was sixteen when his fascination with the magic surrounding time-travel took off. You’d be hard pressed to find him without a book about time-travel somewhere on his person. He got in trouble more than once with the librarian for sneaking into the Restricted section. Honestly, I was hoping you had answers for me--not the other way around. Sirius and I have been wanting to understand his disappearance for many years now. We thought you might have new information…”

Lian shook her head. She wasn’t willing to share all of Roman’s visits to her with anyone, least of all Remus Lupin. She’d charged in her hoping for clarity, and would leave with minor clarification instead. Her inner fire had shrunk since her bold and daring arrival in the secondary DADA teacher’s office, and all she wanted to do was leave as quickly as possible. Just then, a possible window opened up for her as a knock came from the door just as Severus Snape walked inside the office, holding a steaming cup.

Lian had made the Wolfsbane potion a few times before, so she didn’t need to ask what was being delivered to a grown werewolf the night of a full moon. “Well, I think that’s my cue to leave. Have a good run, Professor,” she nodded to Lupin, grabbed her Sky Shatter, and walked around Snape and out into the corridor.

“Wait a moment!” Lupin called after her, but she wasn’t having it. She mounted her broom and shot down the hallway to the staircase before either teacher could stop her. She was pretty sure he only had a question about her Animagus form anyway--which was pointless.

She was halfway across the entrance hall when a hand grabbed her broomstick and yanked it off-course. Shocked, mainly because a person would have to possess a kind of supernatural strength in order to stop her racing br-- _oh. Of course._

“What’s wrong?” Adam asked, his eyes glowing a dark gold as he looked up at her. His hands had already grown out his claws, the sun was setting just then, and she was pretty sure his sideburns hadn’t always been that long. And yet, despite the fangs that were sprouting where his human teeth should have been, his instincts cared more about why she was giving off a miserable vibe than the need to be out in the forest ten minutes ago.

“It’s nothing,” she said dismissively, fully aware that he could see through the lie. Instead of using words, Adam growled. It had terrified her the first time she’d heard it, five years ago; now it almost made her smile. However, she was the only one, as a group of fourth years screamed, apparently just noticing the wolf-boy standing in the middle of the hall. “You need to go.”

Adam blinked, and just like that, his transformation really started to get underway. He had maybe a minute left before he went full wolf, right there in the entrance of the castle before Salazar, Merlin and everybody. Tugging on her broom until they were at eye level, he tossed away her book bag, grabbed Lian round the waist and tossed her over his shoulder. The more she struggled the more firm his grip became as he sprinted out onto the grounds in the direction of the forest.

“Put me down!” she cried, punching his back. “I have to transform!”

Adam grunted something that sounded a mixture between a bark and the word _no!_ And so she was forced to watch as the remaining sunlight disappeared over the edge of the horizon before fur began to sprout all over her carrier’s body, yet still he kept running upright. It was only when she saw his tail that she decided enough was enough.

Pushing herself up and sliding down the front, she fell to the earthy floor of the forbidden forest. The werewolf staggered away from her, fell onto all fours, and allowed the full moon to complete its work. Lian only just gathered enough wits about her to remember that she needed to transform to remain safe this close to a werewolf, and stood up in order to do just that when the eight foot tall mound of black fur was suddenly too close for comfort. He lowered his face to gaze into her eyes, before opening his mouth frighteningly close to her neck.

Heart pounding in its cage, Lian felt every muscle in her body freeze, utterly helpless if the wolf decided to bite her now. His fangs glinted in the early evening, and she could easily imagine them caked with red--though the idea made her feel dizzy enough to collapse. It was only after a minute that she realized he wasn’t threatening her, he was inhaling her scent. She was so relieved she almost smacked his nose, but was apprehensive of the kind of reaction _that_ would bring.

Instead, she stepped back a pace and transformed into her wampus cat form, five legs and all. The black wolf clamped his jaw shut, gazing down at her in clear annoyance. She raised up her left paw and batted his muzzle playfully. The wolf gave her a look that said, _Really?_ before lifting a huge paw and swiping right back. She ducked just in time, growled from deep in her throat, and swatted at his shoulder. The wolf rolled his luminous eyes before baring his teeth and spreading his front legs in an intimidating stance. She replied by jumping up, bouncing off his shoulders and over his back like some strange game of leapfrog. She trotted a few paces away before glancing back at him, swallowing a purr that was making its way up her throat. The wolf looked like a puppy that had just had a treat taken away without explanation or reason. She flicked her tail at him before charging headlong through the underbrush. Two heartbeats later she heard him thundering along in her wake.

Being marginally faster than the werewolf, she was slightly surprised that he was able to block her everytime she tried to run back to the castle. At length, she gave up hope of returning to the common room before curfew, and raced deeper into the dark. Minutes passed with only the sound of their paws slamming into the earth like war drums, and then, as she rounded a large oak on five legs, her rounded ears were filled with a roar, not unlike an engine. _No, exactly like an engine._

She came to a halt, standing back on her four legs like a one-armed centaur, head swiveling as much as possible in an effort to find the source before it found her. Suddenly the clearing she had entered was filled with a harsh light, and the wampus cat stood frozen in the twin head beams aimed on her. _Who on earth is driving a car this far in the woods?_ Lian shifted into her human form, holding up her hands in an effort to prevent self-blindness.

“Hello?” she called, squinting at the vehicle. It appeared to be rusted over completely--its windows completely shattered, and as she moved closer, she realized that nobody was in the driver's seat, let alone the back seats. Yet still, the motor continued to purr.

 _Somebody notify the Misuse of No-Maj artifacts office, we’ve got a live one!_ Lian smirked as she drew nearer to the car, gingerly patting the hood. _Some students tinkering around? Wonder what village they stole you from…_

It was then that the werewolf moved out of the trees, staring down its snout at the car as he pushed his way between Lian and the vehicle. Lian gazed up at the large grey wolf, barely registering that something was off. As he turned his blood orange gaze on her, it clicked.

 _Not Adam. Not Lupin._ _Oh sh--_ a stream of light came out of the dark and hit her shoulder, washing a feeling of nausea over her whole body before she fell to the ground.

“Good find, Greyback,” a hauntingly familiar voice spoke through the fog surrounding Lian’s brain as she began to lose focus. “She will make our passage much easier.”

“Why d’you reckon she wasn’t afraid?” a breathy, whiny voice asked. “‘E’s still a bloody werewolf, even on the potion.”

The last thing Lian would remember was the blood-curdling howl of a born wolf.


	23. The Tower

She could never feel so complete as she did when she cast one of the three Unforgivables. She’d used the first one on her 17th birthday, the moment she was no longer hounded by the Ministry and the bloody trace. She was free to use Dark Magic whenever she wanted, and she had. 

Being imprisoned so soon after her eleven years stay in Azkaban had shaken her confidence, but she dared to hope that the Dark Lord,  _ her _ Dark Lord, had not forsaken them. The day her armed burned with the command from her master… Bellatrix knew it was her chance for full redemption.  _ Dumbledore must die. _

Lucius was always a bit of a coward, so rather than join the direct attack, he returned to his mansion. What her little sister saw in him, Bella would never understand; not that she could talk. She cast a cold glance over her husband, who walked at her side as though they were equals. He’d been handsome when they were betrothed, but somewhere down the line his inner cruelty became apparent on the outside, not that she’d ever felt anything more than duty towards their marriage. Love was a lie. 

Hogsmeade village was well protected, and to enter directly through the gate was laughable. Surprisingly enough, it was Fenrir who had suggested entry by way of the forbidden forest. Most of the creatures living in the dark would rather face a hoard of acromantulas than the bloodthirsty werewolf himself, so Bellatrix and the other Death Eaters devoted enough to fulfill the Dark Lord’s wish allowed themselves to be led through the trees by the enormous gray wolf.

They had not walked half of a mile inside when the werewolf froze, scented the air, and then slunk away through the underbrush in the completely opposite direction. 

“What’s he doing, then?” Amycus Carrow grunted, squinting after the beast. “The castle’s that way, innit?”

Bellatrix opened her mouth to answer, but the air was suddenly filled with a loud roaring noise that settled into a continuous grumble. It was a few moments before she recognized it for what it was; a car’s engine. It was coming from the direction Greyback had gone, and moments later, they had to shield their eyes from the lights aimed in their direction through the trees and bushes.

“What’s that?” Alecto cried from where she’d ducked behind her brother. 

“Idiots!” Bellatrix hissed, stalking forward to peer through to the next clearing. She spotted the silhouette of the large cat that had attacked her a year ago in the belly of the Ministry. Her suspicions were further confirmed when the cat transformed into  _ that girl…  _

“Hello?” the student called, as if expecting an answer from the car.  _ Who the blazes left a car in the middle of the forest? _ Bella shook her head, her mouth splitting into an evil grin as she watched Greyback step out from his hiding place.  _ Go on, little girl, scream. _

She did not scream, instead she eyed the most vicious werewolf in the world as though he were a raggedy, old mutt. Greyback seemed as off-put as Bellatrix felt as he turned to face her, likely to snarl or earn some kind of reaction.

Quick as a sneeze, Bella received a stroke of brilliance, and jinxed the girl with a sickness spell which would render her inert. Moving forward as the girl collapsed on the earthy floor, she praised the wolf as though this was part of the plan. “Good find, Greyback. She will make our passage much easier.”

“Why d’you reckon she wasn’t afraid?” Gibbon asked. “‘E’s still a bloody werewolf, even on the potion.” 

Bellatrix frowned at that, for as much of an imbecile as Gibbon could be, he was not wrong. The way the student had looked up at the wolf, like she had expected him...that was slightly unnerving.  _ Well, maybe she’s just as sane as I am, _ she thought darkly, barking an order at Rabastan to gather the kid up. Just as her brother-in-law bent to touch the girl, a howl reached their ears. Bella had heard werewolves howl before, and understood why weaker minds would fear the noise, but this was different.

This howl was not of a lone wolf baying at the moon, nor of a wolf calling to its kin; it was a warrior’s battle cry, and to be perfectly honest, it sounded more like a monster’s roar than the howl of a werewolf. The hairs on Greyback’s spine stood straight up, he flexed his claws and scented the air again, his yellowed teeth on display thanks to the car’s headlights. 

They agreed to the mad walk through the forest because Greyback was supposed to be the most ferocious thing inside it...but now Bella wasn’t entirely certain that that was the case, only because when she looked up at Greyback’s eyes she saw that they were filled with alarm. 

Before she could bark orders to any of her comrades, a huge, black thing came hurtling out of the trees. Bella barely saw its golden eyes and glistening fangs before it lunged for Rabastan. Greyback snarled and moved to intercept the creature, which began a battle of teeth and claws. Rodolphus grabbed Bella’s arm and tried to pull her away from the scene, but she refused to move, her dark grey eyes dancing between the gray and the black. The black wolf hadn’t shown up until Rabastan tried to touch the girl… 

“Fenrir! Bite her!” She yelled, pointing her wand at where the girl still lay on the ground. Greyback shoved the black wolf back several yards, before turning to charge up the clearing, a hungry look in his eyes. The black wolf recovered quickly and hared after him, but he was too slow. 

Greyback did not immediately bite the girl, and Bella would only silently admit that she was glad for this rare moment of insight. Instead, he merely picked her up in his jaws, leering at the black wolf in a clear message.  _ One wrong move and she’s dead. _ The black wolf froze, his golden eyes trained on Greyback with perfect focus. 

Allowing herself to cackle madly, Bellatrix sauntered over to Greyback, smiling gleefully at the black wolf. Tracing a long finger against the face and neck of the girl, she said, “The last time I saw this one, she ruined my plans to mortally wound my dear cousin, and played a part in preventing my master from learning a great secret… She was my enemy, my obstacle… Tonight she will be my ally.” Something flickered in those golden eyes as she spoke.  _ Interesting. _ “...If you want her to be returned to you in the same condition that we took her, you will do nothing.” Vaguely, Bella registered that she was monologing and threatening a werewolf that may or may not be comprehending a word she spoke. “Otherwise...I let Fenrir do as he pleases.”

The gray wolf inhaled deeply, and Bella could only imagine the wicked thoughts flashing across his imagination. Drool was beginning to fall from his lips and onto the ground. It was time to move on. 

“Shouldn’t we just kill him?” Rabastan asked, glaring at the black wolf, who hadn’t moved a muscle since the girl was placed in Greybacks maw. 

“Magic doesn’t work the same on werewolves as it does when they’re human,” Rodolphus sneered. “There are a few things we can hit him with, but they’ll only make him even more angry. It’s not like anyone can or would try to understand him. We’ve got a ways to go still--we should move on.”

Bellatrix nodded, giving the golden eyes one more look before gesturing to the rest to move on. Greyback walked beside her, the girl still held delicately in his mouth. 

She did not look back. She did not see the black wolf melt into the shadows, nor hear him sprint away through the forest, taking a shortcut back to the castle. She couldn’t know that there was someone who would understand a werewolf on the second floor. No clue whatsoever.

She set her mind back on her mission. A mission which, thanks to the stupid girl from the Ministry, just became a piece of cake.

 

* * *

 

Sirius had hoped to keep Lupin company during the full moon, but by the time he’d arrived at the office, the moon had risen and someone-- _ Snivelus, I bet anything-- _ had sealed the office door just in case the Wolfsbane potion “wore off”.  _ As if.  _

Instead he found himself on patrol with young Bill Weasley. He’d tried to get on shift with old Minnie instead but she was dismissive if not ignorant of the idea when he posed it. Not having spent a great deal of time with the eldest son of Molly and Arthur, he kept his mouth shut for the most part of their jaunt through the lower levels of the castle. 

“How did you do it?” It was Bill who broke the silence, with a question that could have many different answers. “Escape from Azkaban, I mean.”  _ Of course it is. _

“I slipped through the door when they came to feed me one night, and swam to shore,” he answered vaguely, opening a broom cupboard and pointing his wand inside. Nothing. Every other night when Dumbledore had asked the members of the Order to patrol, there had been no excitement...but there was something about tonight that put him on edge. He wanted to blame the full moon but in his soul he knew there was more to it then that. “All as a dog, of course.”

“Dementors don’t affect animals the same as humans?” Bill asked curiously, unfazed by Sirius’s admission of being an Animagus. He supposed that being the older brother of Fred and George had some advantages. 

“Dementors don’t bother with animals, who have muted emotions compared to unstable humans,” Sirius clarified, strolling past the tall windows, through which he had a perfect view of the moonlit grounds. It didn’t take much imagination to picture a stag, a dog, and a wolf racing across the grass in the direction of the forest, the lake, or the… the… Sirius frowned, coming to a full stop and leaning against the glass. 

“What do you-” Bill moved to stand at his side and spotted what gave him pause. “Oh. That can’t be good.”

Both men watched as the large black shadow raced from out of the trees, past Hagrid’s hut and on up the hill towards the castle. Sirius knew immediately that it was the young man, Adam Quince, but as for his motives--he had no idea. Sirius had learned from Remus a few months ago that Quince didn’t always take Wolfsbane potion before a full moon; something about how he believed he could control himself even whilst transformed into a monster. 

“He’s not stopping,” Bill observed.

“I can see that.”

“He can’t be allowed inside--the panic that would create among the student body alone--”

“I know.” Sirius grunted, finding the will to move his feet again, setting off towards the entrance hall. “We’ll have to convince him to turn back.”

“How?” Bill demanded. “He’s a bloody werewolf!”

“Your little brother works with dragons all the time,” Sirius replied loftily. “I’m sure he’d be ashamed if you couldn’t handle one little wolf.”

As they reached the great double doors, which had been locked by Filius two hours ago, they waited for the solid wood to shudder beneath a lupine impact. They were soon disappointed, and amazed, as the black werewolf charged through the window, fangs glistening and golden eyes wild. 

“ _ Little? _ ” Bill hissed, repairing and reinforcing the shattered glass almost instinctively. Sirius wasn’t listening; he’d dropped down to all fours and shifted into a dog the moment the wolf spotted him. He raised his hackles and barked, trying to show that he was bigger and tougher. 

The wolf snorted at his attempt, before jumping over him to raced up the marble staircase. Padfoot turned on the spot and bolted after him, barking as a kind of warning for anyone still out in the corridors. The wolf paused on the second floor landing, scented the air, and then sought out Lupin’s office, scratching at the door experimentally. Snapes spell to keep the werewolf in sparked warningly, allowing Padfoot to catch up. He placed himself between the wolf and the office door, before trying to communicate again. 

As a general rule, Animagus’ couldn’t technically speak to animals. Padfoot had accomplished it once before with Crookshanks, but it transpired that the cat had been part Kneazle. Quince probably didn’t have Kneazle blood in his veins, but that wasn’t going to stop the dog man from reaching the wolf boy. 

They stared each other down for a minute, both trying to communicate in some way, but with no result. Their standoff was broken by the appearance of another patrol, Tonks and Mundungus. Dung gave a shout of surprise and ran back the way they’d come, but Tonks lingered, staring up at the werewolf in wonder. 

_ No! _ Sirius pleaded silently with his younger cousin.  _ No, please, please go away. This isn’t Remus--this is a foolish teenage boy who thinks he knows--I could have sworn I just saw a werewolf grin. That can’t be good, so please Tonks, just go--HEY! _

Padfoot curled his lip at the werewolf, who lunged out at Tonks, grabbing the front of her robes in his teeth, not injuring her in anyway, but much too close for comfort. From the other side of the office door, Remus seemed to have charged. The spell keeping him inside flared up again, and again, and again. The black wolf snorted, before charging back down the staircase, Tonks still hanging from his fangs. Padfoot was torn between charging after him, and letting the other wolf go free. He couldn’t be sure what spell Snape had cast, but he could think of a few counterspells that might do the trick.  _ At the very least, _ Sirius thought as he shifted into a man,  _ we know for certain that Remus is under control.  _

Several curses born out of frustration later, a skinny grey wolf was released, shooting down the corridor faster than Sirius could have predicted. Shifting into Padfoot once more, he raced after him, following him all the way to…  _ Dumbledore’s office? _

Quince was roaring at the gargoyle, which remained stoic and unyielding. Tonks and Bill stood to the side, and when Moony caught up, he slammed into Quince’s flank, snarling. The floor was smooth enough for Quince to skid a few steps off. He and Moony then sniffed at each other, ears and tails twitching and then they both produced a kind of continuous bark that was specific to lupines alone. Padfoot tried to understand, but it just came off as noise to him. Then he realized he was waiting for human words to spring out at him. Quince and Remus weren’t talking here--it was pure wolf. 

Once that was established in his mind, he could detect the gist of what they were saying: 

**_Don’t touch her again._ **

**They took mine.**

**_Who?_ **

**Dark magicfolk. In woods. They stole mine. They have one.**

**_We’ll take her back._ **

**Don’t touch mine.**

**_You started it._ **

Padfoot moved to where Bill and Tonks looked on over the strange scene unfolding before them, and shifted back into a man. “I’m not certain, but I think we’re about to have company of the  _ death eating _ variety any minute now,” he said calmly. “Bill, be a good sport and sound the alarm, won’t you?”

Nodding, Bill raised his wand and shot a stream of silver through the hall, off to find the rest of the teachers and members throughout the castle. Tonks looked up at Sirius expectantly. “What are they arguing about?” she asked, gesturing at the werewolves.

“‘My mate is better than your mate,’ I think,” Sirius shrugged. “From what I gather, I think the Death Eaters might have a hostage with them, so we’ll have to be careful.”

“Where will they attack from?”

Several floors above them, there was a loud BOOM, followed by several crashes and shrieks. 

“That answers that question,” Bill murmured, as the five of them sprinted for the nearest staircase. They did not have far to go; as the disturbance had originated on the third floor. The corridor was filled with rubble and dust from what remained of the statue of the one-eyed, humpbacked witch. Moony sniffed at the tunnel’s entrance and curled his lips back in a snarl. They spun around to look at a pile of rocks that was moving. Bill reached it first and brushed most of the offending material away to reveal Filius Flitwick. 

“Professor!” Tonks crossed the space and helped Bill remove the little wizard from what could have been his own burial. “What happened?”

“Pomona and I were walking,” Flitwick squeaked. “When I swore I heard voices coming out of the statue. I told her to find Minerva and bring her back here straightaway, and the moment she had gone…” he gestured at the place where Gunhilda of Gorsemoor had been. 

“How many were there?” Sirius demanded. 

“Seven...and a werewolf carrying one of our own students.” He sighed. “My wand flew out of my hand when the blast came, or I’d have defended the castle…” he coughed, and Tonks stood to retrieve his wand. 

“Where would they go from--” Sirius began, but Quince answered the question by shifting aside a tapestry to reveal a hidden stairway. He remembered that route--it led directly to the north side of the castle… “What’s so important about the Astronomy tower?”

“It’s the tallest,” Tonks commented. “If they wanted attention, it would be a grand place to attract some.”

“Because blasting old statues isn’t enough,” said Bill, kicking away what used to be the hump of old Gunhilda.

Sirius began to scale the steps after Quince, but Tonks grabbed his arm and made him pause. “We need a plan. We can’t just rush into a group of Death Eaters and expect to walk away.” 

Sirius grunted reluctantly. “Well, maybe  _ you _ can’t.” Still, he exercised what little restraint still remained in him and worked out a simple strategy with the auror, the tame werewolf, and the cursebreaker.  _ Sounds like a bad joke… _

 

* * *

 

“Draco?” Someone was shaking him, whispering in his ear. In that same moment, his arm burned savagely, and he jerked upwards, knocking foreheads with the person interrupting his slumber. It had to be past midnight, who on earth decided to disturb him...other than the Dark Lord, that is. Eyes adjusting to the dark, he made out a slim silhouette. 

“Daphne?” He mumbled, still groggy. “What do you want?”

She crossed her arms. “Lian’s not in her bed, and she’s not in the common room. You’re a prefect—so you can be out of bed and not get into trouble.” She shrugged, attempting to not sound like the big sister she’d always been. “Can you please go find her? She’s probably asleep in the library again.” 

Draco rose to his feet and nudged the next-bed occupant in the back with his heel. Theo grunted and swatted lazily at him. “Wha-at…”

“Wake up.” He sat on Theo’s legs, if only to annoy his equal into the waking world. “When was the last time you saw Lian?”

“Gerroff!” Theo attempted to twist away but Draco was stronger. 

“For someone named after the night you are not a night owl.” Daphne observed, hiding a smile. “Come on, Theodore, I last saw her in Snape’s class. What happened after dinner?”

“She went flying,” he grumbled at last. “Said she needed to clear her head…”

“Well that explains why we couldn’t find her broom,” Daphne nodded, thinking. “But it’s almost 2am and she’s not returned. If nothing else, she’s going to lose us all our House points.”

“You don’t care about points,” Draco said accusingly, moving about the room to pull on his robes and shoes. “If you did, you’d participate in classes.”

Theo got up as well, stifling a yawn. “Wait up, I’ll come.”

He and Draco gathered themselves and marched out into the common room, expecting to bid Daphne good night there, but she led the way to the exit wall. “What?” She sniffed, as they both raised their eyebrows at her. “If Theodore’s going, so am I.” 

“You only woke me because I’m a Prefect,” Draco reminded her. 

“And because you’d do it. I’d have woken up Dumbledore if I thought he was faster.” 

Theo yawned again. “See? You  _ do  _ care.”

“Oh shut up.” 

They strode through the dungeons uninterrupted, crept across the entrance hall when she bent to pick up an abandoned bookbag. Theo pointed out the broomstick leaning against the statue of the founders, while Draco reached into the bookbag and withdrew a copy of  _ Advanced Potion Making, Transmuting the Terrible, _ and the latest edition of  _ Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them _ . “Definitely Kowalski’s.”

“Oy!” One of the portraits along the far wall waved them over. “Do you know what time it is?”

Ignoring the irate question, Draco brandished  _ Transmuting the Terrible _ at the painting. “Did you see what happened to the girl who owns this book?”

The painted old man squinted at the book, his acrylic eyes darting towards the lonely broomstick and back again. “Sure. She was flying through the castle-” Theo gave a huff in dry amusement “-looking all miserable and the like when that big’un from Hufflepuff picked her up and ran outside just as the sun was setting.” 

“Quince?” Daphne murmured, glancing between Draco and Theo with wide eyes. “On a full moon?” Draco dropped the book on Transmutation as the implication dawned, uttering a curse that made the painting rebuke him. (“Well, I never!”) Theodore remained quiet, apparently distracted. “Is there any chance he didn’t...you know...attack her?”

“‘Once transformed, a werewolf has no control’” Draco recited, remembering one of the books Lian had lent him over the summer. “If she was near him when he changed, it wouldn’t matter how long they’d known one another.”

“You shoulda been here an hour ago,” another painting woke up, pointing excitedly over at the large window. “A humongous wolf came busting in here, charging through the glass like it was water and up the stairs.”

“And where is it now?” Theo asked warily, reminding Draco of his boggart. 

“Which one?” the painting asked bluntly. “I’m pretty sure there’s at least three of ‘em wandering around.”

“Quince, Lupin…” Daphne counted on her fingers. “Who is the third? ...you don’t think it could be  _ her _ , do you?”

“One way to know for certain,” said Draco determinedly, banishing Lian’s bag and broomstick back to the Slytherin rooms for later. He didn’t feel like carrying them around all night. “Daphne, how are you on performing Disillusionment Charms?”

“Quite proficient, I should think.” She replied conversationally.

“Guys, even if no one could see us, a werewolf could still smell us!” said Theo tersely. “The best thing for us to do is go back to the common room.”

“Yeah, because you’re not wide awake at all,” Daphne said sarcastically, tapping the top of his head and hers to perform the camouflage spell. She turned to use it on Draco, only to find that he was already marching away up the marble steps. “I hate to break it to you,” she said, running after him, “but I don’t think werewolves respect the prefect badge as much as you think they will!”

Theo glanced up at the paintings, over at the large window they’d indicated, and then reluctantly followed after his friends. “This is a bad idea.”

* * *

 

**A/N:** **For all those wondering if Harry and Dumbledore have been hunting Horcruxes while all this has been going on--the answer is yes. Assume that what transpired in the book happened in this retelling, or as closely as could be in that specific regard. The one major difference I would point out--in case there was any lingering doubt in your minds--is that Harry has not been dogging Draco’s every step; because he never saw Draco in Diagon Alley that fateful day because he was across the Atlantic in New York because, because, because-because!**

As they flew over the dark, twisting lane down which they had walked earlier, Harry heard, over the whistling of the night air in his ears, Dumbledore muttering in some strange language again. He thought he understood why as he felt his broom shudder when they flew over the boundary wall into the grounds: Dumbledore was undoing the enchantments he himself had set around the castle so they could enter at speed. The Dark Mark was glittering directly above the Astronomy Tower, the highest of the castle. Did that mean the death had occurred there?

Dumbledore had already crossed the crenellated ramparts and was dismounting; Harry landed next to him seconds later and looked around.

The ramparts were deserted. The door to the spiral staircase that led back into the castle was closed. There was no sign of a struggle, of a fight to the death, of a body. 

“What does it mean?” Harry asked Dumbledore, looking up at the green skull with its serpent’s tongue glinting evilly above them. “Is it the real Mark? Has someone definitely been-”

“Not quite,” said a voice from the shadows. Harry jumped, for even though he was beneath the invisibility cloak, he had been speaking quite audibly, and he had been certain that they were alone. Dumbledore, though his breathing was shallow and his visage was pitiful, was frowning directly at the spot where the voice had come. Slowly, a man emerged, though it was not a person Harry could recall ever seeing before, whether in life or in literature. He had proud eyes and a defined, handsome face, that was simultaneously kind and cruel. Holding Dumbledore’s gaze evenly, the stranger said, “It’s been a while, Headmaster. You were old before, but look at you now; I believe the correct term would be fading.”

“H-how is this possible?” Dumbledore croaked. “How are you here?”

The strange man shrugged. “I got connections. Sorry about the mark,” he glanced skyward. “Had to get your attention somehow, though. If you head down those stairs, you’re gonna find a mess of angry people, so if I were you, I’d avoid going that way.”

Harry’s head was beginning to ache; he couldn’t tell just by listening and watching whether the stranger in the tower was friend or foe. He decided it was best to ask. “Why should we trust you?”

Despite his father’s cloak still very much in place, the stranger looked directly where Harry was standing, fixing him in place with silvery eyes. “Because I’m here to help, Potter.” The corners of his mouth quirked upwards ever so slightly as he used Harry’s surname. He mumbled something that sounded like ‘dork owes me ten galleons’, before turning to Dumbledore. “Trust is inessential anyway, isn’t it Professor? Not when you don’t have another choice.”

“Indeed,” grunted Dumbledore. “Fire away then, Roman: I’m all ears.”


	24. Subtle

Fun fact: the illness spell Bellatrix had used on her had something of a time limit. Lian was slowly regaining control, registering her surroundings through her senses. She heard at least five sets of boots marching around her, not to mention the scrape of long claws on stone floors. She felt course fur beneath her, along with the heartbeat of a creature on the hunt. She could smell sweat, likely from the people wearing the boots, and after a few minutes her Legilimency began to function as usual. She didn’t dare open her eyes in case someone was watching her. 

She received names as she mentally scanned those around her. The wolf she was presently receiving a piggy-back from was called Greyback. There was Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange, which meant darling Bellatrix had to be there as well, but she was probably an accomplished Occlumens because Lian couldn’t detect her. Other names jumped out at her like Gibbon, Amycus, Alecto, and Thorfinn. The latter was the only one that gave her any reason to feel concerned; the formers were cold-hearted perhaps, but she felt they were more like unto stooges than real threats. Still, a stooge with any amount of power was not something to take lightly. 

The next thing her training told her to assess was whether or not she still had her wand. For all its gaps in educating its students on magical creatures, Ilvermorny knew a thing or three about training its students for war. Every spell, curse, jinx, hex, and enchantment was non-verbal; every instinct drilled into their minds during the first year was how to protect themselves from varying situations. As a Thunderbird, Lian’s expected journeys would lead into various corners of danger, so she’d often wake up in a DADA class, bound and blind, with a certain window of escape. Understandably, her current status was giving her vivid flashbacks to different simulations.

Her surroundings: unfavorable. Her wand: still in her sock. Her window of escape: to be determined.

The part of the castle they seemed to be trespassing had a slight chill to it, indicating that they were either in the dungeons--Lian ruled that one out as they passed a window. She could see the moonlight through her eyelids.  _ Okay so we’re on the higher floors. How long have I been incapacitated? _ She still felt like it was a bad idea to open her eyes, even though she desperately wanted to do just that. 

Bellatrix would probably sense it if she tried to look into her thoughts, so Lian directed her efforts towards Rabastan. 

_ He was standing in a dark cell, his face pressed into the bars as a hooded figured drifted past. Across a poorly lit space, he could see his brother, Rodolphus in the opposite cell. His arm burned viscously, and even the meer memory was enough to  _ eject Lian’s reach, but she got the gist of it. They literally just broke out of the wizard prison Alakazam. 

Something was welling in the base of her throat, something that felt suspiciously like  _ Uh oh.  _ Lian pushed herself backwards, sliding off the werewolf’s flank and proceeded to vomit all over Alecto’s robes.  _ So much for being subtle.  _

She looked up in time to see Alecto stagger away, pull out her stub of a wand and point it at her. “You filthy piece of scum!  _ Crucio!” _

Every muscle in her body was in shreds, every bone had been crushed, her blood was acid and her breath was stolen: Lian felt agony in the most inhumane way. She might have screamed, she did not know—only the pain did not last. 

Bellatrix had shoved Alecto away. “Fool! Would you bring the entire hosts of the castle down upon us?!” Her hooded eyes blazed as she rounded on Lian. “It has been a pleasure seeing you again,  _ girl _ .”

Lian was twitching unpleasantly on the stone floor, but she managed a jerky retort. “C-can’t say the same, t-to be hones-st.” She raised her prosthetic at the witch,  her silver fingers creating a rude gesture.  “You o-owe me an arm.”

Bellatrix leered down at her, cackling. “You should feel honored. I’ve decided to not kill you yet,” she pointed her crooked wand at Lian’s face. “ _ Imperio!” _

Lian recoiled, anticipating the spell to hurt—but it was quite the opposite. Instead she felt...nothing.  She felt a floating sensation as every thought and worry in her head was wiped gently away, leaving nothing but a vague, untraceable happiness. She stood there feeling immensely relaxed, only dimly aware of  the seven Death Eaters surrounding her. 

Endless hours meditating, learning Occlumency to use on herself, to block out others thoughts and emotions, years practice towards keeping everything together whilst maintaining her ability...all of it was beat by a simple curse. If Lian wasn’t so detached from everything that was happening in that moment, she might have wept in relief.

And then she heard Bellatrix Lestrange’s voice, echoing in some distant chamber of her empty brain:  _ Stand up. Walk with us.  _

Lian obediently rose to her feet, gazing ahead blankly as the others around her began to move forward again. She fell into step beside the biggest of them, the one she was vaguely aware was named Thorfinn. They walked through a few hidden passageways before they reached the base of the Astronomy Tower. 

Bellatrix’s voice spoke to her again, like a bodiless voice telling her what and where to go:  _ Stay here. Jinx anyone who tries to approach. Wait for me to return. _

Lian moved to stand by the bottom of the spiral staircase, when there was a bright green flash outside the window. “What was that?” Rodolphus snapped, moving to peer outside. “Bella… we have a problem.”

“What are you talking-” Bellatrix gasped as she moved to stand beside him. “Who did that!?” she wheeled on the other five, plus the werewolf which was sniffing Lian’s robes. “Who else is here??”

“What are you talking about?” Amycus snapped. 

“The mark!” Rodolphus hissed. “Some idiot cast the mark!”

“That’ll get Dumbledore’s attention,” grunted Thorfinn. He had taken out his wand, which resembled a severed oak branch as opposed to the standard twigs the ordinary wandmakers had been making for the last few centuries. A voice in the back of Lian’s very blank mind urged her to remove her wand from her sock, just in case things got bad. 

The Death Eaters began to argue amongst themselves, and their angry voices became a kind of white noise to Lian. She gazed dully across the open hallway, from which there were a few entry points. Other than the incessant squabbling, all was quiet… Until the rest of the gang showed up, that is. Falling back on Bellatrix’s order, Lian raised her wand and sent a hair-growth hex at the witch with pink hair. It hit, and she ducked back behind the wall. The Death Eaters broke off their ‘discussion’ and scattered into teams. Thorfinn and Bellatrix hung back by Lian and the staircase. The witch began firing spells as quickly as she could call them, while Thorfinn conjured shield charms, though he was technically a shield just standing there. 

The Carrows made a barrier out of a suit of armor, and began fighting off the people coming up the main stairway. From the south facing corridor, came twin howls, causing Greyback to bare his fangs and charge down that way, intercepting the skinny grey wolf and the enormous black. 

Faces Lian recognized, like teachers who’d assigned her mountains of homework, yet awarded her house points when she answered questions in class; she shot jinxes at them now, automatically, without thought. She didn’t have to think. She only had to obey the witches voice, and she could continue to be at bliss. 

After she sent a tickling hex at Bill Weasley however, Bellatrix added a subtitle to her previous order:  _ Make them bleed. _

Lian raised her wand, a spell ready to fire when she spotted Draco Malfoy peek out from the hidden passageway. In a flash she remembered him lying on a cot in the hospital wing, his shirt and his robes torn from a confrontation with Harry Potter, a large scar crossing his torso. She could see herself pulling Crabbe away from Neville Longbottom, who had a bruised eye and bleeding lip. She remembered jumping in front of Sirius Black in the Department of Mysteries, remembered watching her own right arm fall to the floor as dark, scarlet blood flowed freely from what remained of her arm. She could see Jason, torn up from a horrible fight with his twin brother, spitting out a tooth as she pressed an ice pack to his shoulder. She remembered Adam back in their fourth year, a million years ago, after an Alchemy experiment gone horribly wrong, clutching his leg as red gushed around his fingers. She’d been thirteen when she watched her first jumper in the subway; she and Jake had stood frozen as the No-Maj paramedics picked up the pieces from the tracks. And then...a few days before she turned twelve, under a beautiful castle in Massachusetts…  **_Don’t forget me_ ** _ … _

_ Make them bleed! _ Bellatrix’s voice insisted, sensing her hesitation. Another voice, the same that had warned her to withdraw her wand just in case, spoke up, louder this time.

_ No.  _

_ Make them bleed! _ Bellatrix was giving her a direct command now, no longer a soft suggestion.  _ Make them feel pain, as you have! They deserve it! _

The voice in the back of her mind grew stubborn:  _ No they don’t. I won’t hurt people. That’s not who I am. _

_ Curse them all! _

_ No. I don’t want to hurt people. I want to protect them.  _ The voice was beginning to feed strength into her heart, into her desire for free will. 

_ KILL THEM!  _ Bellatrix roared.

NEVER! Lian vaguely registered shouting that last part. The peace and serenity of mind that she’d selfishly enjoyed was falling apart as she began to see clearly. Bellatrix turned to cast the Imperius curse on her again, but Lian was ready this time around. Thrusting her wand at the witch who had stolen her right arm, one thought stood out among the rest that had begun to flood into her consciousness:  _ Percutiens Tempestas!* _

A bolt of lightning struck Bellatrix, shocking her and shooting her several feet away into the middle of the battle. Lian raised her wand to strike again, when she caught sight of the humongous black wolf bearing down on Rabastan, poised to bite the man’s head off. 

A memory of Adam telling his younger brother, Cas, that born werewolves only bite to kill, not infect, flashed to the forefront of Lian’s mind, and instead of setting fire to Bellatrix Lestrange’s hair, she aimed a stinging jinx at the black werewolf’s shoulder, successfully gaining his attention. Her brown eyes met his golden ones, and for a heartbeat she communicated just how disappointed she was in him.  _ Bad boy! _

She watched as he clapped his mouth shut, and tossed Rabastan the length of the corridor with one massive paw. She was unable to focus on his actions any further, as Thorfinn only just realized she was no longer a blank soldier following orders mindlessly. He could have easily knocked her out with his wand-club, but decided to use  _ Crucio _ on her instead. Her screams were drowned by the rest of the shouts as spells flew from both sides of the fighting. 

There was no one to stop Thorfinn from torturing her until she was a drooling vegetable, but she was only taking her second round when the huge Death Eater was struck with a stunning spell, causing him to fly a few feet to the side, where he would become someone else’s problem. 

Her body still convulsing, Lian looked around for her savior, but couldn’t see a physical being to hold responsible. 

“Over here!” someone whispered, someone who sounded suspiciously like Daphne Greengrass, the Queen of Curfew. Lian squinted towards the spot, ducked a stray jinx, and could’ve sword the wall looking unusually lumpy.  _ I mean, it’s like three in the morning, but still… _ One of the lumps crossed the space to where she lay on the floor, and she felt a hand at the back of her neck, its attachment cradling her shoulders and upper back, pulling her up and dragging her towards the wall where they could hide beside the second lump. “Are you okay?” Daphne’s voice came from the latter.

“Oh yeah, she’s fine,” Theo’s snarky voice sounded next to Lian’s forehead. “Those were the screams of somebody in the okay.”

“Shut up,” Daphne sniffed. “This is exactly why students are supposed to be in the common room by curfew!”

“Not now, Daph!”

Despite everything, Lian grinned. She could be halfway to insanity and was only imagining the disembodied voices of her allies, but that was fine by her. Still, the fight was not yet over. She pushed herself back onto her feet, gathered up her wand from where she’d tossed it and pointed it at Bellatrix, who was dueling Professor Sprout and Sirius Black. 

_ Sondheimus!**  _ She’d been waiting for an opportunity to use that one ever since she came across it in the library. 

 

* * *

 

Roman glanced through the window at the battle raging inside. If he was being perfectly honest with himself, he felt a surge of pride watching Lian Kowalski strike Bellatrix Lestrange.  _ Feels good, doesn’t it?  _ Though he had to bite his tongue as the wicked witch burst into a one-woman show of the _Cell Block Tango._

As soon as the headmaster and the student were safely off the topmost tower, (sitting upon an illegal flying carpet he’d picked up in ‘87,) Roman removed the Dark Mark from the sky. The Death Eaters and Order members were a bit preoccupied to notice presently. Part of him, the reckless side, wanted to jump through the window and join the fight. He knew the chaos would go on until Severus dealt the final, crushing blow. He knew that two people would walk away with new, wolfish appetites. He knew both sides would feel like they’d lost, and why. He also knew that it wasn’t his place to interfere...not  _ this _ time. Not even to say hi to Lian; which he hadn’t done in quite some time.  _ I wonder if she misses me? _ No, his role tonight was making sure Dumbledore died peacefully. 

_ The Drink of Despair wasn’t a great choice on his part, but how was he supposed to know the locket was looked after? I mean, since  _ asking _ was obviously out of the question. _ He registered that one of his passengers was speaking, and he looked around at them. “Sorry, what?”

“What exactly is your plan here, Roman?” Dumbledore reiterated. “Your interference gives me to know that however this evening was supposed to go, you wanted to steer it in a different direction?”

“That’s the general idea.” Roman shrugged. “You and I both know you’re running on fumes, though maybe that’s something you failed to mention to young Mr. Potter here,” he added as Potter Jr. stiffened at the insinuation.

“Is that true, Professor?” he said, Lily’s green eyes wide.  _ That’s something I’ll never get used to.  _ At a glance, Roman could sense that the boy had known Dumbledore didn’t have long to live, but perhaps he’d deluded himself into believing his precious headmaster would live just a bit longer. After all, they had Horcruxes to go and search for--Roman coughed into his shoulder to cover the derisive snort that wanted to make itself heard.

Ignoring his young student, Albus gazed steadily at Roman, his blue eyes scanning him as they always had before. His visual search was returned with cold indifference, which was almost tradition by now. In all his wanderings through the years, Roman couldn’t have predicted that he’d have the opportunity to watch his headmaster die...and feel utterly revolted, where others would feel reverence. 

At length, Dumbledore cleared his throat. “My fate aside, I have a few questions for you.” 

_ Predictable. _ “I’m not the one you should be talking to,” Roman jerked his head at ‘The Boy Who Lived’. “You’ll regret it if you depart before clearing the air. You should have started the year with it, really, but here we all are, regardless.”

“I don’t see why there isn’t time for  the both of you,” Dumbledore sighed. “Where have you been, if not in your own time, Roman?”

He shook his head. “I have nothing to say to you, old man.”

“Then indulge me on my deathbed,” Albus wheezed. “You disappeared a few short years into the war, right after Regulus Black’s death.”

Roman coughed into his shoulder again.  _ Oh the irony… _ “Yeah.”

“Where did you go?” the old wizard raised his eyebrows as he peered over his half-moon spectacles at him. “I can honestly say that the war went downhill in your absence.”

“That would depend on who you ask,” Roman replied, as Bellatrix dove into the fifth chorus some ten feet above them.  _ Well played, Kowalski. _ “You could say I went into hiding, caught up with the family.”

“Your family.” Dumbledore repeated, doubt etched into every syllable.

He shrugged. “On my mother’s side.”

If his reply bothered or confused the headmaster, he did not show it. “What sort of connection do you have with Ms. Kowalski?”

“On Wednesdays we play bingo in the village,” he said sarcastically. Under Dumbledore’s scrutiny he became serious. “I’ve never been the indulgent kind, Dumbledore. Use what time you have left to prepare the boy for the fate you’ve decided for him or I will. I won’t be as gentle--and I might forget a few details.” He turned his back on the two of them, waving his wand to steer the carpet round to the far side of the castle. As they passed the fifth floor, Roman spotted Severus stalking the length of the torchlit corridor like the glorified bat he’d always been. 

Potter Jr.’s whispered inquiries were all too easy to overhear, so Roman made an extra effort to ignore them. He knew the answers to them anyway, having seen them play out firsthand. By altering the events of this evening, he’d save a load of messes later; not that it would matter much in the long run. This was a preventive strike; just in case Plan A through J didn’t pull through. 

The carpet came to a smooth stop outside the teacher’s lounge, which was currently deserted. The window opened after Roman presented the proper negotiation, and hopped inside to reignite the fire. From the carpet outside, Potter’s voice reached him. “Sir? Could you help bring him in?”

Roman returned to the window and levitated the old man inside, setting him down in an overstuffed armchair by the warm blaze. “I doubt we’ll ever meet like this again,” he said, speaking to the young Mr. Potter for the first time. “But if I’m wrong; never call me ‘sir’ again.” Potter nodded, his attention fixed on the headmaster, who looked ready to let go at any given moment. With the fire reflected on his glasses, masking the emerald green gaze that belonged to his mother, Roman could pretend he was speaking to James for the briefest of moments. “...You okay?”

“No.” The boy said without hesitation. “But it’s a lot to take in. I wish I’d known sooner.”

“Do you feel deprived of your innocence in any way?” Roman didn’t actually care, he only posed the question to see who was right: himself or Dumbledore.

Harry James Potter gave him the driest of glances, and Roman had to bite his inner cheek to keep from smiling.  _ There you are, Prongs. _ “Well, on top of being orphaned and all, not really.”

“Good. Stay safe, Potter.” He could feel his time running out, but there was one more thing he had to mention before he left. “Lian Kowalski. Is she a friend of yours?”

Several expressions crossed the boys face as he pondered the question. “I couldn’t tell you. I thought she was, or tried to be last year, but she’s been a bit more secluded this time around.”

“Well, if I was going to tell you anything that was real, it’d be this: Stay on her side. In the days to come, she won’t follow the Order, and she won’t follow the Dark Lord, but believe me, you’re gonna want her loyalty when the time comes.” 

Potter frowned up at him. “How do you know?”

The corners of Roman’s mouth curled upwards as he felt the familiar pull. “Lucky guess.” There was a soft *pop* and the scene around Roman dissolved. He was standing alone in a rented room at the Leaky Cauldron, his flying carpet rolling itself up and leaning against the door frame. 

“How’d it go?” said a voice from behind him. 

“Better than expected,” Roman replied, pocketing his wand and collapsing in the nearest chair. “You?”

Regulus Black tipped his hat at him. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. I mean, she was as problematic as you said, and  for a second there I thought we were both goners, but it worked out in the end.”

“Yeah, well...two out of three ain’t bad,” Roman sighed, glancing out the window at the Muggle street below. Knowing the future of the people involved in the Battle under the Astronomy Tower didn’t make it any better. True, the second wizarding war had a bumpy start, but it was about to turn ugly at an alarming speed.  _ The battle Bellatrix became a Broadway hit, _ he thought deviously, allowing a soft chuckle to escape. “Hey Reg, I gotta tell you something…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Percutiens Tempestas* A spell I invented. The Tempest Jinx: sends sparks of electricity all over the victim's body. Lian favors it for people who bring out her bad side, namely Adam (who can handle it due to being a werewolf and size,) and Bellatrix Lestrange. 
> 
> Sondheimus** Canon spell. A spell that causes the target(s) to burst into an elaborate musical number.


	25. Blood Ties

All lessons were suspended, all examinations postponed. Some students were hurried away from Hogwarts by their parents over the next couple of days--the Patil twins were gone before breakfast the following morning, and Zacharias Smith was escorted from the castle by his haughty-looking father. Seamus Finnigan, on the other hand, refused point-blank to accompany his mother home; they had a shouting match in the entrance hall.

That was nothing compared to Slytherin House. While many families did not support Dumbledore, that did not necessarily mean that they sided with the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. Nearly all of the first and second years, and half the third and fourth years were removed from the castle grounds by concerned parents or guardians.

“Our dad came for us last night,” Astoria muttered quietly, spreading jam across her toast, before half-heartedly placing it back on her plate. “But then he took one look at Daph...and er…” 

“Changed his mind?” I guessed. Never had I possessed a great deal of respect for Mr. Greengrass in the past, so I wasn’t terribly surprised by his reaction. It had almost been a week and I was still unsure of how to proceed. I mean, no one had been killed-there had been a death-but no one was murdered. Part of me wished I’d convinced Draco and Daphne to stay in the common room that night. At least in that wistful scenario my entire world wouldn’t have capsized, only a secret portion I hadn’t the guts to face anyway. “Why didn’t he just take you, then?” I asked, dimly aware that the proper thing to do was carry on as though everything was fine, even though it clearly wasn’t.

Astoria scoffed, rubbing at her red-rimmed eyes. “He certainly tried. But I’m not going to abandon her that easily.”

“Good answer,” I croaked, and took a sip of pumpkin juice to fix that. “When will Madam Pomfrey discharge her, do you think?”

Astoria shook her head. “I haven’t the foggiest idea. When she wakes up, hopefully, but who knows what she’ll be like…”

I glanced around our section of the table. Crabbe and Goyle looked utterly lost without Draco to direct them. Blaise, Pansy and Millie were whispering together, and every so often one of them would glance in mine and Tori’s direction. They knew Daphne was in the hospital wing, but nobody had asked for details--which was very out of character for Blaise and Pansy, Millie not so much. 

I couldn’t get that night out of my head. Every so often a memory would jump to the forefront of my mind and I was forced to relive it all over again. The nights were the worst--no one talked about the dark circles now residing beneath my eyes but I knew they were there. I hadn’t looked in a mirror in Merlin knows how long, and it was a bit of a miracle that I made it out of bed and walked about. That was all I was doing though: walking. I felt listless and fidgety, yet completely numb to everything. 

What was I even supposed to  _ do _ ?

My eyes shifted towards Astoria’s half eaten breakfast, and my heart skipped a beat when for the briefest moment, her jam reminded me of dried blood. 

_ Suddenly my mind was pulled back to the hall beneath the Astronomy Tower. Still hidden by the Disillusionment Charm with Daphne, we’d thrown caution to the wind and fired hexes at anyone who shot at Lian and Draco, both of whom were still very much visible.  _

_ “WHAT’S HAPPENING??” Draco had shouted to Lian above the ruckus, his grey eyes wild with panic. He’d been casting shield charms more than anything, clearly uncertain as to which side he should support in that moment. _

_ “I HAVE NO CLUE!” she’d shouted back, sending a particularly nasty Self-Punching hex at one of the Carrows. “JUST TRY NOT TO DIE!” _

_ “GOT IT!” _

“Theo?” Tori poked my cheek again, bringing me back to the present. 

“What?”

“I asked if you wanted to go visit Daph with me,” she repeated patiently. “I’d rather sit with her than hang around here, if you catch my drift…” she frowned sideways at the staff table. I knew she blamed the majority of the teachers for what happened to her beloved sister, and in that moment I didn’t have any reason to correct her. 

“Of course. Let’s go now.”

The normally short walk to the hospital wing seemed to take a full century, but once inside, Astoria and I glided to the curtained bunk where her sister was shielded from the rest of the world. 

“I warn you,” Madam Pomfrey said, gripping the white curtain before allowing us to pass. “If either of you scream I’ll send the both of you away.”  _ What is she looking at me for? _ “She’s been in and out of consciousness, but if she wakes while you’re here… Be delicate.”

With those sugar-coated sentiments from the school nurse, Tori and I were allowed through. I clenched my teeth the moment I saw her, while her little sister covered her mouth and nose with both hands. It was fortunate Daphne wasn’t actually awake, because I’m not sure either reaction would fall under the classification of “delicate”.

_ I’d lost track of Daphne, or she’d lost me; either way, I’d planted myself halfway along the wall between Lian and Draco, determined to see the both of them through this. I tried to avoid looking at the south-facing corridor, because that was where  _ they _ were fighting it out, all teeth and claws, and it looked--from what I dared glance--like the skinnier wolf was going to lose, badly.  _

_ I caught sight of a flash of bright orange--the older Weasley brother--rush towards the corridor. I heard Fenrir Greyback roar, heard the ginger wizard cry out--then a wall of black fur moved as the large black wolf--the one Lian insisted was Quince--thrust himself into that particular fray. I quickly lost track of that part of the battle when Professor Snape arrived on the scene. _

“I still don’t understand how this happened,” I looked around at Tori, who was frowning up at me. Feeling guilty, I turned my eyes back on Daphne, who should never have been involved to start with.  _ No, Daph,  _ THIS _ is why people shouldn’t be out past curfew, _ I thought ruefully, my eyes adjusting to the sight they’d face for the rest of my life, while my heart desperately clung to the memory of what she’d been not ten days ago. 

I cleared my throat. If anyone deserved to know the story of what happened--least from my perspective, it was Astoria. “Lian…” My chest constricted uncomfortably, though I couldn’t explain to myself why. “Lian wasn’t back to the dormitory, and it was nearly two o’clock in the morning…”

Astoria groaned. “So Daphne decided to go all fire and brimstone on her library-snoozing butt again.”

“Sorta. She asked Draco to go and bring Lian back, and the next thing I knew, all three of us were wandering the school in the dead...in the middle of the night.” I swallowed. “A couple paintings warned us that there were a few people in the castle that shouldn’t have been...like three werewolves, for example. Draco led the way, and that’s when…” My voice refused to expound, and I was left flapping my jaw like an idiot. I couldn’t say it, I just  _ couldn’t. _ Saying it aloud made it more real, somehow, as if denying it would fix the way she was now...the way everything was now… 

_ Professor Snape had shouted something, I hadn’t been listening, but I’d later conclude he’d said something to the effect of “It’s over”. And then, after he’d cursed the whole of the Astronomy Tower to collapse in on itself, creating the biggest distraction since the invention of Veela dancing, he’d seized Draco by the scruff of the neck and led the remainder of the Death Eaters away. Bellatrix’s awful voice belting “They had it coming!” all the way down the staircases would proceed to haunt my nightmares for several months, but while most of us were distracted by the  retreating Death Eaters or the collapsing tower, very few noticed that when Greyback retreated, he nearly tripped over a lump on the floor.  _

Daphne had sustained four long gashes from Greyback’s claws. One marred the lower half of her face, followed by two on her neck and the final one across her collarbone. From what I could tell, she’d been struck by a stray stunning spell, and had fallen in the middle of the hallway, silent and unseen by everyone. That is until she got trampled by a fleeing nightmare.

I moved to sit on Daph’s other side, vividly remembering how she’d been there for me when I’d been injured after the Ministry the year before. Opposite me, Tori picked up the cooling cloth and bowl of medicine on the bedside table and proceeded to dab at her sister’s injuries. We weren’t the only ones visiting in the hospital wing, because a short time after we arrived, we started to hear our very loud neighbors. 

“How’s he doing?” asked a voice that sounded very much like one Harry Potter. I exchanged a glance with Tori, who was frowning at the curtain. 

“ _ He _ can speak for himself, thank you very much,” replied a very cheerful voice. I imagined it to be Weasley the older--the one who’d gone to defend the skinny werewolf. It was his own fault he’d landed himself in here, then. “And  _ he’ll  _ be fine. You four alright?”

A girl laughed in relief. “Bill!” there was a muffled noise, one I imagined to be from an embrace. 

“What has Madam Pomfrey said about his condition?” asked the one and only Hermione Granger. Due to my interactions with her recently, I doubted I’d ever forget the unique timbre of her voice. “Is it just as Lupin surmised?”

“‘E should be ze same as ‘e ever was,” a young woman’s voice with a thick French accent spoke up. I had no clue who that was supposed to be. “From what we can tell, ‘e ‘as a craving for very rare meat,  so eet ees lucky ‘e is marrying me,”  said the young woman happily, and there was a noise very like fluffing pillows.  “Because ze British overcook their meat, I ‘ave always said this.”

Uncomfortable sitting there and pretending that Tori, Daph and I didn’t exist, I stood up and moved through the curtain. “Do you mind?”

Hermione was nearest, and she turned to look up at me with round eyes. “Nott? What are you-” her inquisitive gaze flicked past me to the covered bunk. “Who-?”

“And where were you?” I said without much forethought, except I had thought about it. Where was St. Potter and his band of merry-miscreants, while people like Lian and Quince-who had no business being involved in the fight, put their lives on the line? 

Harry, Ron, and Ginny all looked at me blankly, so I ignored them, speaking only to Hermione. She was the only intelligent one in my mind, anyway. “What are you talking about?” she replied, blinking rapidly. 

“She shouldn’t have been there that night, she didn’t have anything to do with either side!” I wasn’t sure if I meant Daphne in that moment. Hermione gaped at me, and I knew she had nothing to say, no words of wisdom that would suddenly make everything better. She wasn’t the person I wanted, she was only a sad attempt for my mind to try and replace the empty space inside. She’d looked like her once before...why couldn’t that work again?

I recognized that there was a funny sensation around my nose and eyes, like I was about to sneeze, but instead my eyes grew warm and damp. I hadn’t talked this much since that night, not about...I didn’t want… 

My voice was shaking, and I wanted nothing more than to hide away in the darkest corner of the castle to avoid reality. “So where were you… Bloody Gryffindors...sticking your noses in where they shouldn’t be, that’s your job, not...not…” Hermione reached out and set her hand on my arm but I pulled away sharply. Suddenly the airy hospital wing was too small, the air too thick for me to breathe, and I turned my back on the Gryffindors, on Tori who was listening behind the curtain while tending to her sister, and stormed away. 

I could feel moisture trying to escape my eyelids as I walked through the deserted halls, and used my sleeve to rid my face of them. I heard quick steps following along in my wake, but I wasn’t ready to stop and talk about it, not if there was a chance I could lose them first. If it was Tori, she might give up after the first few staircases; they didn’t. My feet had a direction all their own; my brain had thought that the common room would be a good place to hide, but instead I found myself around the corner from where the Astronomy tower used to be. It was at that point my pursuer caught up and grabbed the back of my robes. “Theodore, wait!”

I turned on Hermione, hating her brown eyes and her wild hair. Hating that she dared use my first name, hating that I ever thought we could be friends. What was the point in having friends anyway, they only existed to let you down.  _ Allies. _ I hissed through my teeth and pulled away from her again. “What!”

She didn’t scold me. She didn’t taunt me. She didn’t say what I needed to hear, because she wasn’t  _ her _ ... _ no one would ever be her. _ She did speak softly, but determinedly, informing me between the lines that she wouldn’t let me run away. “...Where is Lian?”

It’s funny how a single, four-letter nickname can break away all my defences. Actually, no, it’s  _ not _ funny, its abhorrent. Some dam I’d built inside myself burst, as though the letters L-I-A-N were a kind of secret password, and every horrible thought and emotion I’d shoved under the rug came flying back up again. But I let none of my inner misery show on my face, well, none more than the one tear I couldn’t prevent from falling. I gazed steadily down at Hermione, while my insides churned and shattered all at once. 

I could still picture every detail of that night, vividly and without fail. Professor Snape showed up, caused the tower to collapse as a kind of getaway signal, and just as he and the Death Eaters were making a run for it,  _ I  _ heard her scream.  _ I  _ turned to look, while watching Greyback stumble over Daphne, who was camouflaged right into the floor.  _ I  _ saw the tower crumbling in on itself.  _ I  _ did nothing as Lian was buried beneath the rubble. 

She’d been dueling one of the newer recruits, Gibbon--I never knew his first name. I suppose it didn’t matter now. They’d pulled out his body a few days after, and he’d died on impact. 

“...They never found her body.” I whispered, my eyes flicking traitorously towards the spot at the end of the corridor. “They think it fell with the top of the tower to the grounds…” At that height, even if the initial collapse didn’t kill her, the fall and landing certainly would. 

“Yeah,” a new voice interrupted my grief, and Hermione and I looked up to see none other than Adam Quince lounging against one of the high windows. He was frowning down the hall at the place where it happened, but he was not hunched over and injured. His posture suggested frustration and impatience, the last thing I’d expect from someone like him in this moment. “That’s not what happened.”

I supposed that was meant to give me hope and comfort, but instead it made me want to punch his teeth in. Hermione seemed to sense this and gripped my robes again, just as a precaution. “What are you talking about?” she asked, her tone tense.

“She didn’t fall with the tower,” Quince replied, turning his gaze on us. In the light his eyes appeared green, but not like Potters--they were paler. “And she’s not dead.”

“And you would know,” I said bitterly. “That night she was nothing more than a bone you couldn’t dig up.”

Quince moved faster than I could’ve given him credit for, his wand pointed at my face. “You’re not the only one who’s hurting here, Nott. I’m just practical with my pain, and I  _ know _ she’s not dead.” He lowered his wand and jerked his head towards the destruction. “This happened earlier in the year, but I didn’t know then what I know now. Her scent is completely gone. Her body isn’t here, and nobody moved it, which means that it moved itself.”

“Then where the bloody hell is she!?” I roared, hating everything about the wolf boy. Hating that he was trying to pretend this wasn’t real, not that I’d been any better in the last few days. Hating that he wanted to pull Hermione and me into his delusions that Lian had somehow survived… “If she were safe, she’d be here, wouldn’t she!”

“I didn’t say she was safe, I said she wasn’t dead,” Quince clarified, lowering his wand and stowing it in his back pocket. The bitter part of me wanted it to go off. “Isn’t it obvious?” Hermione shook her head, frowning up at the overgrown Hufflepuff. He gave her a look full of pity. “What must it be like in your narrow-minded little existences, you poor British kids,” he sighed heavily, before finally getting to his point. “Guys. She had a way out. She’s Lian Freaking Kowalski. You’ve only known her for a short time, but the fiery little Manhattanite I know always had a back-up plan.” He even had the audacity to smile, and Hermione grabbed my arm in a vice-like grip as I renewed the silent vow to rearrange his molars. 

“Say what you mean, or leave it, Adam,” Hermione said tightly, struggling with me and my suddenly violent urges. 

Quince exhaled, looked around and back at us, looking almost excited. “Her Time-Turner. Duh.”

 

* * *

 

Gibbon had fallen before her tempest jinx, and she’d just turned to see where else she could assist. Sirius was laughing at Bellatrix, who was struggling to aim her spells while performing her musical number. To add insult to injury, Lian cast  _ Anaticula! _ upon the witch, so everytime she managed to successfully curse someone, a duck would appear from the tip of her crooked wand. Sirius sent her a warm look through the tears of mirth, a look which was soon replaced by horror as the tower over Lian’s head began to tumble. Dust fell in curtains around Lian’s feet, and she looked up to see cracks developing quickly over the entire spiral staircase, and tower in general. 

It was too late to run, she was seconds from the first stones striking her. She shoved a hand into her robe pocket, grasping the Blood-Turner but not before she was hit by the first of the rockfall.  _ Take me anywhere, just get me away from here! _

The tower, the battle, and everything else fell away. When she next opened her eyes, she was standing by a lake in a familiar cavern. Realizing where and what was about to take place, Lian gave a strained sort of grunt before her stamina and adrenaline failed her completely, and she fell sideways onto the cave floor. She hadn’t realized how beat up she was until that very moment, not because she could look at herself but because she remembered this moment. This day was etched into the forefront of her self-identity for many years. So much about how she conducted her personal life was dictated by this day. 

A little girl, almost twelve, scrambled to Lian’s side and gently rolled her over until she was lying on her back.  _ I have to warn her. I have to tell her to stay away from Hogwarts. None of this would have happened if I’d just stayed at Ilvermorny.  _ The little girl leaned over her, trying to make eye contact, while Lian remembered she had to gaze blankly at the stalactites above. That’s how it had happened the first time around, anyway. 

“You...who…?” the little girl asked hesitantly.

“You had to know...you had to see…” Lian whispered. She had to tell herself everything, everything she needed to do in order to not make the same mistakes. But firstly, and most crucial, Lian had to admit that she couldn’t save Oliver. That was what the little girl was thinking about most, these days. “...there’s nothing you can do…” her voice faded in and out, but hopefully the message was clear.

“No, no you’ll be fine. I just need to-” the little girl looked down at the pool of blood Lian’s body was feeding and gasped. “Holy shishkabob, that’s a lot of blood! Okay, I just need to uhm-uh-” there was a ripping noise as she tore off the sleeve of her blue and cranberry robes, pressing the material into the gash stretching across Lian’s chest.  _ Now, when did that get there? _ She thought vaguely. The little girl sniffed, feeling helpless. “I knew I should’ve been a Pukwudgie.” 

Lian remembered feeling that panic--Pukwudgie’s learned healing spells and remedies right off the bat, while Thunderbirds learned dumb things like how to survive.  _ You’ll be grateful for it, one day. _ If her warning wasn’t enough to keep the little girl out of Hogwarts, then she at least needed to have a heads up. There were important people she needed to protect, even if they all sucked at first impressions.

“Find The _ odore _ Not _ t, Draco _ Malf _ oy and  _ Harry  _ Potter _ ,” Lian’s breath was coming and going in soft puffs. Most of her words were muffled, and likely didn’t reach the girl’s ears. “Keep them safe.”

“Wait, wait I don’t understand,” the little girl stuttered. She was freaking out, and wouldn’t know how to help. But it was okay. Lian had prepared for this day, mentally. Sure, she didn’t realize it would happen while she was still in school, she thought maybe she had a few more months. But this was the day. This was the day she would die. She had seconds before the little girl tried to look into her memories, so instead she served them up for her. Just the ones she would take with her.

A memory of Theodore Nott staring across the table at her, a small smile playing on the corner of his mouth. Lian always thought that his tiny smiles were warmer than a ray of sunshine, though she’d never said it aloud. Then she showed the little girl her first meeting with “the Harry Potter”, an angsty teenager with glasses and emerald green eyes.  _ If you think for one second that you’re braver than I am you need to check your ego at the door because you’re no better than me. _ And then that moment, that time in the Ministry, where Sirius Black battled Bellatrix Lestrange before her very eyes, (his mother’s portrait magically glued to his rump, shrieking insults like you’d never heard before.) That was the moment she’d lost her right arm. The little girl could choose to let Sirius take the fall, or to stand and protect, as Lian had decided. She knew by now that the little girl had already met the mysterious Roman, but decided to show her an image of the man who had kidnapped Oliver.  _ If you see this guy walking down the street, clock him for both of us, yeah? _ Then she showed a private memory of Draco Malfoy. It had happened in late January, and not even Theo had known it happened, but Draco had suffered a kind of breakdown. She could still hear him crying:  _ I don’t know! I can’t do this anymore! _

Feeling that she was about to fade at any second, Lian gave up the one memory that would convince the little girl of her identity, and seal this moment in her timeline forever. When it was over, eleven year old, naive Lian Kowalski stared down at seventeen year old, battle-worn Lian Kowalski. “How did you...what  _ are _ ... _ why..? _ ”

“Don’t forget me.” Lian warned, before she vanished into thin air.

 

* * *

 

I hated admitting I was wrong, so I didn’t. But Quince and I returned to the crumbling disaster that had been the Astronomy Tower nearly twice a day after that. If Lian was coming back, she had to return to that spot, it was the only thing that made sense. I was still doubtful, half believing that one day I’d wake up and Blaise would mention something about Filch finding her mangled and crushed remains the night before. If Quince suffered any of these thoughts he never mentioned it. I got the feeling he didn’t like being wrong either. 

The night before Dumbledore’s funeral, after which everyone would be sent home on the Hogwarts Express, we found ourselves sitting in the hall, staring at the open space where the tower used to be. 

“How’s your friend?” Quince asked after a little while. I think he was attempting to keep the sense of defeat at bay. “The girl who got scratched?”

“She was released yesterday,” I answered, occupying myself with throwing small rocks through the new window made by Professor Snape. “And she’s freaking out.”

“Her scars aren’t that ugly-“ he began in a reasonable tone. I suppose he knew a thing or two about scars—I saw him receive a check-up from Madam Ponfrey—his shoulders and neck had been slaughtered, though he was recovering well. I suspected his wolfblood had something to do with it. 

“She’s not upset about her appearance,” I snapped. “She’s upset about what they’ll turn her into.”

Quince scoffed. “You can’t get turned by scratch. Maybe if I got careless and the claws went deep enough—but Fenrir Greyback’s a bitten—“ he paused, noticing my bewildered expression. “What?”

“Say that again.”

“Fenrir Greyback is a bitten wolf.”

“No, not that.” I waved my hand impatiently. “What do you mean she won’t get turned?”

“She was only scratched—stepped on if you want to get technical. Becoming a werewolf is disgusting enough, but it’s not as easy as collecting free samples at the supermarket. She’s in the same boat as that Bill guy, she’ll just have a few character changes, but she’s still very much your friend.” Quince frowned at me. “What do they teach about lycanthropes at this school?”

“Nothing, except how to identify them,” I said, remembering third year, but that wasn’t what was drawing my attention. 

Quince observed me in silence, and just when I thought we could continue without having to speak again, he said, “You know someone else who was scratched, don’t you.” It was not a question. “Was it you?”

I glared sideways at him. “No.”

He wrinkled his nose at me. “But it was someone important to you...a friend, or family member-“ I winced. “Sibling? Cousin? Parent?”

“Shut up!”

“...what happened?” He asked after a pause. 

“I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“Right...but whatever it is, it’s bothering you. And it’s not like we have other stuff to do...so if you wanted to talk...I mean, I don’t even have to listen...believe me saying it out loud helps.” I knew he wouldn’t give up, and though I still very much wanted to hit him, I wasn’t stupid. 

“My mom was attacked by Greyback when I was seven. My father had insulted him in some way, and he planned to attack me as a sick revenge but she got in the way. We never knew if she was bitten, but she got gouged up pretty bad...and my father decided that it was better that he end her misery, rather than watch her suffer every month…” the only thing that would make everything take its focus off me was if Lian suddenly popped back. But she didn’t, and I was left vulnerable before a proud werewolf. 

But he didn’t speak. He didn’t apologize, and he didn’t try to offer words in condolence or comfort. He remained silent, which was the best thing he could have done. Yet it still was nowhere near what I needed. 

_ Dammit _ _ Lian, where are you? _

I’d never admitted that to anyone before, and I hated that it had been Quince. But he wasn’t wrong, it felt like a release, saying it  aloud , and even more so now that it was explained. Daphne was tough, she’d be okay. 

“So. What are you going to do now?” As far as lines to change the subject went, that was pretty bad, even for a Canadian. “I mean, which side are you gonna play?” Still awful. “Cuz like you didn’t go with Malfoy and those people, but everyone here still kinda looks at you like you spit toxic spikes when you breathe.”

“...thanks.” I said after an appropriate amount of time. I hadn’t thought of my next move—well I had when Draco and Lian were present, but my best friend was gone and my ally was still AWOL. 

“I mean, you must have some idea.” Quince pressed, sensing my reluctance. 

“Must I?” 

“Well… I overheard McGonagrouch talking to a couple of those aurors, and apparently with Snape ditching the place, they’ve lost any and all connection to the other side and their plans.” He leaned forward to look at my face. “Sounds kinda like a job opening.” 

I quirked an eyebrow at him. “For you?”

“Yeah because I’m real tight with that there Dork Lord,” he said sarcastically. “We carpool on our way to terrify children and kill puppies. Of course, you wouldn’t be a bad candidate either. You’ve already got an in.”

I swore he glanced at my left arm. “I beg your pardon?” 

“You’ve got the same tattoo as the crazy lady who sang  _ Chicago _ ’s greatest hit.” He said bluntly. “If I had to bet, I’d say Malfoy has one too. But when Lian gets back and I find one on her I’m-“

“You wouldn’t,” I growled. Whether he thought I meant Lian wouldn't have a Dark Mark, a tattoo, or he wouldn’t dare check her person: he didn’t ask. 

“Okay then.” He backed down. “So, are you spy material?”

 

* * *

 

**_Hogwarts, 1975_ **

 

Dorcas screamed as the body popped into existence at their feet. The class had spent the last two hours squinting through their telescopes and all they ever wanted was to go to bed immediately. None of the fourth years anticipated someone to drop in the middle of the hallway. That just didn’t happen. 

A girl with vivid red hair took charge. “Okay, back up everyone, don’t crowd!” 

“It’s breathing!” Someone shrieked. 

“Well, kind of,” said a boy with long dark hair. “Give her a few minutes and she’ll probably stop.” 

“Imbeciles.” The oldest of the class shoved his way forward, withdrew his wand and conjured a makeshift stretcher out of his friends cloak. (“Oy!”) “Stuff it, Damocles. You lot, out of the way, this witch needs Madam Pomfrey, not a bunch of gangly teenagers. 

He stalked the length of the corridor, using a hidden passageway to get to the hospital wing in a more efficient manner. His silver eyes strayed to the older girl in the Slytherin robes, convinced he’d never seen her before. 

“ Damn .” Lux muttered, taking in her countless injuries. “What happened to you?”

  
  


**To Be Continued...**


End file.
